


Campaign

by darkshepard (helloshepard)



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, Canon Typical Racism, Codependency, Coercion, Dark, Dissociation, Drugged Sex, Dubcon Cuddling, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Body Manipulation, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Invalidation, Emotional Manipulation, Fade to Black, First Kiss, First Time, Gaslighting, Gift Giving, Hardlining, Implied/Referenced Self-Multilation, Internalized Victim Blaming, Isolation, Loss of Control, M/M, Mild Emeto, No Aftercare, Non-Consensual Somnophilia, Political Campaigns, Politics, Power Imbalance, Revenge, Seduction, Sex Toys, Sleep Deprivation, Sleep Groping, Synesthesia, Telepathy, Threats, Transformers Plug and Play Sexual Interfacing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Victim Blaming, Watching Someone Sleep, brief mentions of drug use, poorly negotiated kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25253536
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/helloshepard/pseuds/darkshepard
Summary: Ratbat always gets what he wants.
Relationships: Megatron & Soundwave, Proteus/Ratbat, Ratbat/Soundwave, Ravage & Soundwave
Comments: 51
Kudos: 44





	1. Staging

**Author's Note:**

> this fic is highkey dedicated to eatyoursparkout for getting me into ratwave
> 
> This is intended as a prequel to the [soundwave week ficlet that featured ratbat,](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25085836/chapters/61014283) and is probably also a prequel to my prowlcoswave stuff, but you definitely don't need to read either of those to understand this one (or vice versa).
> 
> ~~Not gonna be tagging per-chapter warnings, as this whole fic (however long it lasts) is intended to be an unpleasant exploration into an unhealthy, codependent relationship, but I will put a warning in any chapters with actual interfacing/fade to black.~~
> 
> update 7/17: I'm gonna try tag per-chapter warnings, but be advised that pretty muchevery chapter will contain conditioning, isolation, emotional abuse/manipulation, dubiously (or non) consensual touching/kissing. If I miss a chapter-specific tag, please let me know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains: none, save for the usual warnings.

Soundwave was tired. Exhausted, really—Ratbat could feel it rolling off the mech in waves. The fundraising campaign for his latest political push was barely beginning and Soundwave was already lagging.

It wasn’t any second-guessing or bouts of conscience that had him flailing. Soundwave knew as well as Ratbat that for every shanix donated to a low-cost clinic in Kaon, three would be funneled into the Senator’s smuggling operations. It was pure, simple overstimulation. That wasn’t the problem.

The first cycle, Soundwave had emerged from his makeshift habsuite ahead of schedule—and Ratbat had been genuinely impressed. It was only when the second rest cycle came and went, then the third, that he realized what was happening.

Of course, Ratbat couldn’t be entirely sure what was wrong, but he could hazard a very, very good guess. Soundwave’s control over his outlier abilities had improved greatly since meeting Ratbat (a feat Ratbat attributed to the strange dependency Soundwave had developed on his mind), but he still had a long way to go. But Soundwave had _potential_.

It was potential Ratbat intended to use to the fullest. But for now, Soundwave was still young and struggling to shut out the cacophony of noise, and Ratbat knew for a fact that right now, the Senate building was very, very noisy.

Soundwave’s apartment was on the outskirts of Iacon—even if he left the instant his current shift ended, he would have barely a quarter cycle to recharge, not including the time he would need to refuel for the return journey. As it stood, Ratbat’s aides were currently schedule for a half cycle for rest in between their work shifts—at least until the campaign was over, and possibly not for some time after.

Which meant Soundwave had two options: work himself into stasis lock, or seek out assistance. He wouldn’t ingest the stimulants the other aides were partaking in—such things only exacerbated his abilities and pushed him ever closer to burn out.

A third option: risking dismissal in order to return home for a full cycle of recharge—also unlikely. Nor was Soundwave stupid enough to push himself too far and wake up in a medcenter, with massive bill and no job, though not so improbable that Ratbat could discount it entirely.

The only question was _how long_ it would take Soundwave to come to that conclusion himself _._

Ratbat’s audio receptors were nowhere near as sensitive as Soundwave’s, but he picked up the sound of his aide dropping a datapad well enough. He didn’t mention the slip, though he could practically imagine Soundwave’s hot rush of embarrassment, his hope that none of the other aides had seen it.

Soundwave’s isolation from the other aides was an unexpected bonus. Ratbat had developed plans to separate Soundwave from the others—it would certainly not do to have a mech as powerful and capable as Soundwave loyal to anyone but himself. Anyone capable of enacting any _real_ change—Soundwave’s loyalty to the beastformers remained unshaken. Besides the occasional pointed remarks, Ratbat had given up on trying to drive a wedge between Soundwave and his ‘family’, and waited for these particular circumstances to physically isolate Soundwave from the beastformers. If all went according to plan, the emotional distancing would soon follow.

But the other aides and Soundwave were opposites. They were suspicious of Soundwave due to his alt, his murky origins. His aides had known each other practically since stepping off the assembly line. Soundwave was a new and unwelcome interloper, and his awkward mannerisms—including his obvious speech impediment that flared up whenever he was nervous—had done little to endear him to them.

That was fine. Purely out of necessity, it had pushed Soundwave closer to Ratbat, which had the unintentional effect of pushing Soundwave even _further_ from his coworkers, simple because Soundwave _was_ competent. And if Ratbat allowed the other aides to see his lingering gazes, to occasionally compare their substandard work to Soundwave’s exemplary reports…

That was also fine. _Especially_ since, at that very moment, all of those factors finally came into play, and Soundwave appeared in the doorway to his office.

“Soundwave.”

“Senator.”

Ratbat wondered how the word _master_ would sound coming from his aide’s lips.

“What do you want?”

“Soundwave: would like to request a full cycle for recharge, a chance to return to habsuite.”

“No.”

Soundwave wasn’t even disappointed. He nodded—he had not been expecting another answer. This had just been half-ruse, half-desperation. Soundwave was quickly nearing the end of his rope.

Ratbat threw him a line.

“Is the berth not adequate?” Ratbat was certain that the recharge slabs and energon dispenser were far superior to whatever Soundwave and his animals had. But it should be enough to prompt Soundwave to divulge his need—a need Ratbat was determined to fulfill.

He wasn’t sure _when_ his fascination with Soundwave began. Had it been when he first met the mech, and some strange, latent fantasy about crossing cables with some dark, fearsome stranger from the streets had wormed its way into his brainpan? Or had it been seeing how receptive Soundwave was, how desperate?

Ratbat had begun to suspect it was the latter.

This was the first step of many. It was a dance that, in time, Soundwave would learn.

“Negative,” Soundwave said. “Senate building, its surroundings: noisy.”

 _Noisy._ Ratbat decided to play dumb. “I will contact the manager immediately—the room _is_ supposed to be soundproofed.”

“Not an issue of soundproofing,” Soundwave said. “Soundwave’s abilities: extend beyond the range of one room. The activity of Senate building: distracting.” He hesitated. “Overwhelming.”

“I see.” Ratbat set his datapad down—it was early enough in the campaign that he could afford to take a break, though if this kept up (and Ratbat intended it to) he would need to see about synchronizing his and Soundwave’s schedules. “And what would you like me to do about it?”

It came out a bit sharper than he intended, but Soundwave didn’t react.

“Apologies for the intrusion,” Soundwave said. “Soundwave: requesting permission to focus on Ratbat’s mind to facilitate focus, recharge.”

Ratbat nearly laughed. Half of the fun was the buildup, and Soundwave had made this too easy.

“I think I can do better than that,” Ratbat said. He stood, tucking a datapad into his subspace. “Come.”

“Soundwave—“ Soundwave followed, trailing behind Ratbat as they exited his office and headed down the hall. Ratbat was well aware of his aides’ gazes on their backs. Let them think what they want—in time, he and Soundwave would be doing just that. “Only requests permission to remotely survey Ratbat— _Senator_ Ratbat—’s mind.”

“And I am agreeing.” Ratbat opened the door and stepped aside. Soundwave hesitated. He had gone rigid, staring at the berth as though a sparkeater hid under it. “A brief hardline is harmless, Soundwave. Surely you’ve experienced one before.”

Soundwave visibly relaxed. Ratbat had to stifle another laugh—more than likely, Soundwave had been picking up the thoughts of the other aides.

“Affirmative.”

Soundwave stepped inside.

Ratbat locked the door behind them.

He gave Soundwave half a minute to take the initiative. When he didn’t, Ratbat stepped forward and rested a hand on Soundwave’s shoulder, and pushed him towards the berth. Soundwave stumbled forward, oriented himself, then sat on the edge of the recharge slab.

“Well?” Ratbat didn’t _mind_ ordering Soundwave around. But if he did it too quickly—too harshly—Soundwave might resist, and Ratbat wasn’t in the mood to coordinate damage control.

“Apologies.”

Idly, Ratbat observed Soundwave’s armor clamp even more tightly against his protoform. That would be rectified in time—once the hardline was established and Ratbat had obtained the requisite permissions, Soundwave would be as relaxed as Ratbat saw fit.

Soundwave was shaking—shaking!—as he lay down. This close, Ratbat could feel his aide’s exhaustion, tempered with well-deserved wariness towards Ratbat. And there was something else, something Ratbat could barely feel. Perhaps in time, Soundwave would be able to exert enough control over his abilities to cloak his feelings whilst in close proximity to others. But not yet.

Now, he needed to plant a seed. Ratbat sent the command to activate the hardline cable on his waist. Depending on the circumstance, most mechs preferred the wrist port. Ratbat had no idea which Soundwave actually preferred—nor did he care—but the mech nodded and a second later, Soundwave’s ports were exposed.

Ratbat would never allow Soundwave access to his own systems. He would allow Soundwave—eventually—to sink in to his emotional processes, but always only as an observer.

Slowly, giving Soundwave the illusion of agency, Ratbat unspooled his own cable and connected it to Soundwave’s port, allowing his fingers to linger on Soundwave’s paneling a moment longer than necessary before begrudgingly pulling away. In time, there would be no need for Ratbat to be so circumspect.

“You may be surprised,” Ratbat said. “But I do have some experience in this area.”

It wasn’t totally a lie—Soundwave was far from the first associate Ratbat had decided to seduce, and he probably wouldn’t be the last. In particular, he and Proteus had once shared the most _delightful_ aide, a quiet mech not unlike Soundwave himself. That mech had been the catalyst for Ratbat’s interest in hardlining.

Hm. Perhaps after Soundwave’s loyalty to Ratbat was beyond doubt, one day he and Proteus might share an aide once again.

“Now,” Ratbat said. “Relax.”

Simple words wouldn’t work, but Ratbat was very nearly certain that if he proposed systems access immediately, Soundwave would refuse.

And then he would be back at square one.

Ratbat could practically _see_ the tension building in Soundwave’s frame. He raised a hand and allowed it to rest just above Soundwave’s chassis.

If nothing else, this little diversion would finally give Ratbat the chance to indulge an urge he had been fighting for cycles.

“May I?”

Soundwave nodded. Ratbat ran his hand along Soundwave’s frame, pausing just before his claws would have brushed the buttons on his waist.

His aide shivered.

“I told you to relax.” Ratbat’s voice was chiding. His claws traced the Senate insignia painted on Soundwave’s chest. _His._ “You’re never going to get to sleep at this rate.”

“Apologies,” Soundwave said. He apologized a lot, Ratbat had noticed. “Relaxation: difficult.”

There it was.

“If you will permit me limited access to your systems,” Ratbat said. “I will be more than happy to guide your systems toward recharge.”

Soundwave pushed uncertainty through the connection—unintentionally, Ratbat was sure. As he already knew, Soundwave was not yet an expert in concealing his feelings—why else would he have a mask obscuring most of his face?

“Ratbat: certain?” Soundwave touched the cable, then jerked his hand back when his fingers brushed against Ratbat’s. “Campaign progress, supervision: of utmost importance.”

“The campaign can wait for half a cycle,” Ratbat said. “Likely less—I doubt it will take you that long to power down. _Especially_ if you allow me to assist. Besides—everyone knows where to find me, if need be.”

Slowly, Soundwave nodded.

Ratbat beamed. Soundwave accepted the limited permissions Ratbat requested. Compared to the access he truly wanted—the access he would inevitably _get—_ the permissions were sparse.

“Now,” Ratbat said, “If I overstep my boundaries, you _must_ let me know.”

“Affirmative.”

Ratbat resumed stroking Soundwave’s frame, beginning at his aide’s masked jaw and ending at his waist. Predictable. Rhythmic. Ratbat would far prefer keeping Soundwave off balance, always trying (and failing) to anticipate the next touch.

Later.

Soundwave’s emotional processors were overclocked. Ratbat diverted some power from Soundwave’s secondary systems towards processing the raw data. He didn’t want to cut the processors off or stifle them unnecessarily. Soundwave needed to experience the entirety of what Ratbat was about to do to him.

And Ratbat needed to see it.

“Here.”

He selected the processes controlling Soundwave’s physical control over his armor, and pushed a correction over the hardline.

Under Ratbat’s touch, Soundwave’s frame relaxed.

“Better?”

Soundwave didn’t respond. Likely he was trying to reconcile his body not responding to his emotions. Ratbat hadn’t expected a whimper or another verbal display of the new sensation, but he had hoped for one. Helius, the shared aide, had been far more expressive than Soundwave.

Not that Ratbat had a problem with stoicism—it made the inevitable noises all the more sweet.

Gently, taking his time not to upset Soundwave’s security protocols, Ratbat lifted the plating from its defensive grip on Soundwave’s protoform. He sent a final command—to reduce the power allocated to the struts and nerve circuits keeping Soundwave’s shoulders so uncomfortably _tight._

Idly, Ratbat wondered if it was possible for him to remotely manipulate Soundwave’s telepathy. He badly wanted to test his own personal theories, to see how Soundwave would react if he were forced to process the world without the aid of his outlier ability. Likely it would leave the mech an incoherent wreck, a slave to his instincts.

Ratbat didn’t want Soundwave like that. He wanted Soundwave uncomfortable and off-balance but _cognizant,_ fully aware of what he and Ratbat did. And then he wanted Soundwave to go home afterwards, to turn the humiliation and regret over and over in his mind.

But he did wonder.

Belatedly, Ratbat realized that exhaustion was creeping through their connection, leaking from Soundwave’s systems into his own.

He hadn’t stopped touching Soundwave in the interim—persuading Soundwave’s systems to relax via hardline had been laughably easy.

The only thing left was to give Soundwave what he really wanted. What he _needed._

And to his delight, what Soundwave needed was Ratbat himself.

Over the hardline, Ratbat sent the command to retract Soundwave’s mask.

Soundwave flinched—or would have, if Ratbat had not kept tight, steady control over his aide’s frame. Instead, Ratbat monitored the uptick of Soundwave’s spark, the rate at which his ventilations had increased.

“I know you’re self conscious about others seeing your face,” Ratbat said. “But I _do_ think it will be easier for you to stay relaxed if you were able to breathe unhindered.”

He waited as Soundwave considered his words. Soundwave was _smart,_ and watching the speed his processors worked only confirmed what Ratbat already knew.

Soundwave didn’t speak, and Ratbat took that to mean he agreed. It would make the next part easier.

Ratbat granted Soundwave limited tertiary access to his own systems—Soundwave would be unable to do anything but feel _,_ but _feeling_ was exactly what Soundwave wanted to do. He allowed Soundwave to sink into the depths of his mood, his focus on the campaign, on his political ambitions.

It was a good thing he had been alerted to Soundwave’s existence when he did, before this young, _impressionable_ mech found someone else to latch onto.

Even now, he could feel Soundwave sinking into Ratbat. The sensation was heady—Soundwave was repulsed by him, as most were. But unlike most, Ratbat’s presence cleared his mind. Allowed him to think. To relax.

Ratbat looked up. Soundwave’s visor was still powered on, but it was dim.

Uninterrupted, Ratbat estimated that Soundwave would lapse into recharge within the next five minutes.

He waited four minutes, then leaned forward and pressed his lips against the crest of Soundwave’s helm.

As he anticipated, Soundwave’s optics flared back online.

“My apologies,” Ratbat lied, and he knew Soundwave knew it. “As I said before, if you are uncomfortable, you must tell me. Of the two of us, I am not the mind reader.”

Soundwave didn’t respond. But he was _thinking,_ Ratbat knew. Weighing the costs of what Ratbat wanted versus what _Soundwave_ wanted, versus a myriad of other variables Soundwave was too tired to even think about.

It was what Ratbat had been counting on.

“You do not mind?”

Soundwave stared at him. Ratbat had to fight the urge to check to ensure he had not accidentally disabled the mech’s vocalizer. Helpfully, Ratbat directed Soundwave’s frame to resume its interrupted shutdown.

And he kept his optics on Soundwave.

If he had blinked, Ratbat would have missed it—Soundwave angling his helm ever so slightly in Ratbat’s direction.

Again, Ratbat leaned in, lingering so close to Soundwave’s face their ventilations—Ratbat’s measured, Soundwave’s artificially relaxed—mixed. Daring Soundwave to say no.

Soundwave said nothing.

Victory.

Ratbat always savored the first kiss. It was brief—hardly worth the buildup, though Ratbat knew this was merely a gateway to other, far more enjoyable diversions. He pulled back, daring to gently bite down on Soundwave’s lower lip as he broke the kiss.

Soundwave didn’t react. His exhaustion was very nearly contagious—Ratbat had to fight the urge to forcibly disconnect the hardline. Instead, he nudged Soundwave’s systems ever so closer to shutdown.

This time, Soundwave’s visor went dark.

Ratbat waited a moment longer before disconnecting the hardline. He checked his chronometer and smiled; Soundwave had taken so long to sleep that his allotted rest cycle was nearly halfway over. He wouldn’t be nearly as rested as he needed to be, but he would get _enough_ rest to work another cycle before once again needing Ratbat’s assistance to recharge.

The campaign was long, and Ratbat doubted that Soundwave would be able to rest unassisted while in the Senate building, at least for the foreseeable future. A simple hardline, no matter how tantalizing the control it offered, wasn’t _nearly_ all Ratbat wanted to do with his aide, but he could afford to take it slowly.

He had the time.


	2. Pushing Buttons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man. I was BLOWN AWAY by the amount of feedback I got for this fic...as you can see, it got me writing really quickly. Thank you so much to everyone who left a comment <3
> 
> Aside from the usual, this chapter also contains: sleep groping and a brief foray into Ratbat's very inappropriate fantasies.

The fundraising campaign was halfway over by the time Ratbat got around to making his next move.

In the meantime, he had settled Soundwave into a routine. Soundwave was still unable to fully enter recharge without Ratbat’s emotional presence but he was more than able to relax his frame without Ratbat’s ‘assistance’.

Ratbat did it anyway. It wouldn’t do to let Soundwave realize he was _capable_ of such a thing.

He had also desensitized Soundwave to the kisses—not to their intensity, but their occurrence. As much as Ratbatwanted to rip open the mech’s plating and plug into his array without abandon, it wasn’t _all_ he wanted. He didn’t particularly care if Soundwave trusted him, as long as Soundwave had no one _else_ to go to when it came to coupling. Slowly but surely, Ratbat had been increasing the intensity of the kisses by meager degrees—two cycles ago, he had dared dart out his tongue to lick Soundwave’s lower lip when he pulled away.

Outside of typical office gossip, he _also_ knew the aides suspected something. Ratbat had synced his scheduled cycle of rest to match Soundwave’s half-cycle, which always began with Soundwave following him into the makeshift habsuite. They were angry—more specifically, they were _jealous,_ but not because _they_ wanted Ratbat to seduce them. They were jealous because they perceived Ratbat _favored_ Soundwave _._

Ratbat did nothing to correct them. They were right. He _did_ favor Soundwave. The praise he lavished on the mech’s work wasn’t unfounded. It simply had a secondary effect of further isolating Soundwave from his peers.

Anyway.

It was time to take the next step. Soundwave was getting complacent, and Ratbat was getting impatient _._

Ratbat looked at Soundwave. The mech was staring up at him—he hadn’t picked up on the exact nature of Ratbat’s thoughts, only the flavor of them.

Ratbat smiled, and hoped it looked a _little_ sincere. He stood, gently disconnecting the hardline from his wrist, and moved to leave.

Soundwave stiffened. To his credit, he managed to wait all the way till Ratbat was at the door before speaking.

“Ratbat. Senator.”

Ratbat resisted the urge to turn his smile into something positively _smug._ He turned around, and saw Soundwave had actually _sat up._

“Yes?”

Now, Soundwave paused. Ratbat knew the issue wasn’t the kiss itself. Soundwave didn’t actually _like_ the way Ratbat kissed him—Ratbat had sensed his distaste for the activity via the hardline. The issue was the misstep of routine. The implication that Soundwave had done something _wrong._

“Soundwave: requests clarification of Ratbat’s previous actions.”

“Go on.”

Ratbat waited as Soundwave attempted to explain himself—trying to explain that he didn’t _like_ what Ratbat had done, but he wanted to know why Ratbat had _stopped._ For a mech as disinclined to express himself through words as Soundwave, it was positively _painful_ to listen to.

“Soundwave: has overstepped Ratbat’s boundaries?” Soundwave finally asked, and Ratbat had to resist the urge to laugh in his aide’s face.

He gave in and returned to his seat, then rested a hand on Soundwave’s knee. Soundwave’s gaze was drawn to Ratbat’s hand, but he looked up when Ratbat spoke, expression rightfully wary.

“I was unsure you enjoyed it,” Ratbat said, allowing himself to drop _some_ of his polite facade. But Soundwave had always responded more to the actual words rather than parsing out tone, so perhaps it didn’t matter. “I wouldn’t want to sit here and watch you recharge if it made you the _least_ bit uncomfortable.”

Soundwave frowned. He hadn’t yet returned his facemask to its usual position. Ratbat wondered what that meant.

“Soundwave: does not want to distract Ratbat from work.”

“I hardly think that’s possible.” Ratbat had brought a datapad with him for just this purpose, and now he held it out for Soundwave to examine. “I’m certain I can keep myself busy while you recharge.”

He didn’t bother waiting for Soundwave to think of a response.

“Now,” Ratbat said. “I am more than willing to stay, if you are amenable to it. Otherwise, you know where to find me.”

This time, he waited for Soundwave to respond. He watched Soundwave, imagining his aide’s processors trying to puzzle out what Rabat wanted from him—no, Soundwave wasn’t stupid: he _knew_ what Ratbat wanted. Ratbat had not hidden that. Soundwave just didn’t know the full extent of Ratbat’s desire.

“Stay,” Soundwave said, finally.

Ratbat smiled. It didn’t reach his optics.

Ratbat leaned back in his chair and looked at Soundewave. This time, he didn’t bother to hide the way his optics roved across Soundwave’s frame.

“Ratbat: desires interface?”

Trust Soundwave to be so blunt. Ratbat hadn’t entirely discounted the possibility of Soundwave cutting through the fog of Ratbat’s seduction, but it was unexpected enough that Ratbat took an extra second to think through his response.

“While I admire your eagerness,” Ratbat purred. “I don’t think we’re _quite_ ready for that.”

Soundwave’s realization that it had come across that _he_ was the overeager one showed on his face—his mask nearly snapped back into place as the full weight of his mortification sunk in.

Ratbat badly wished they were connected via hardline.

“For the moment, why don’t we settle for this.”

Ratbat moved—slowly enough that Soundwave was well aware of what he was doing, quickly enough that he wouldn’t have the time to get a protest in. He settled himself on the berth, and straddled Soundwave, running his hands across his aide’s frame. Soundwave’s fans hadn’t been activated—but in time, they would: if not now, then after he had slipped into recharge, aided by the reestablished hardline connection.

Soundwave’s lips parted. Ratbat briefly entertained the idea of digging his teeth into his aide’s lips, _marking_ him—but no. Not yet.

Instead, Ratbat leaned forward and kissed him, deeper than he had ever kissed Soundwave before. He could _taste_ Soundwave warm and hesitant, yet pliant, with the aftertaste of flavored energon on his tongue. Ratbat let out a practiced moan and was pleased when Soundwave responded in turn, though Soundwave’s was most _definitely_ not rehearsed. Briefly, he broke the kiss, trailing his mouth down Soundwave’s jaw to rest on the cabling of his neck.

Ratbat bit down and was _delighted_ when Soundwave whined. His hands had been still, but now they moved to hold Soundwave in place as he squirmed under Ratbat’s expert touch. He felt the pulse of energon in Soundwave’s cables, thrumming frantically as it tried to push past Ratbat’s teeth and reach Soundwave’s helm.

Far before he was ready, Ratbat released his old on Soundwave’s neck.

He entertained himself a moment more by prying another moan out of Soundwave before drawing away. He eyed the dribble of coolant that had escaped Soundwave’s mouth, then leaned down to lick it.

Soundwave trembled, and Ratbat could not have been more pleased.

“Hardline?” Ratbat asked, lightly, and Soundwave nodded.

It took no time at all to establish the connection, and Ratbat was delighted to realize that Soundwave was actually _more_ relaxed than usual, likely because he felt he had a firmer grip on Ratbat’s intentions.

It seemed Soundwave had already resigned himself to interfacing with Ratbat. Now was just the question of _when,_ and Soundwave had been relieved to know the ordeal was _not now._

Ratbat waited for Soundwave to slip into recharge before pulling out his datapad.

He hadn’t lied to Soundwave—not exactly. He _did_ have work to do, but the work at hand was focused on _Soundwave._

Ratbat logged onto Astroin. Proteus had acquired the company half a million years ago, and Ratbat had become a devoted customer ever since.His fellow senator had quite the gift for cutting out the needless excesses the site’s previous owner had allowed, and despite the occasional complaints about employee mistreatment, prices had dropped enough to mollify all but the most vocal of Astroin’s critics.

In the intervening years, Astroin had become Cybertron’s primary marketplace for online purchases, and Proteus (and his bank account) knew it.

As he often did, Ratbat took a moment to mourn the fact that _he_ had passed up the opportunity to purchase the site.

Of course, the site’s most popular subcategory was dedicated to marketing and selling everyinterfacing accessory imaginable. Idly, Ratbat perused Astroin’s ‘Just Added’ selection but found nothing truly interesting: recolors and minor upgrades of devices he already owned, though _that_ one would look very nice on Soundwave’s wrists.

Ratbat added the cuffs to his cart. He pulled up his favorite seller—a mech who had given himself the unimaginative nickname _Charge._ His customizable accessory were wildly popular with Ratbat’s peers—and for good reason. They were positively _luxurious,_ made off world and imported in small batches.

Ratbat spent the next fifteen minutes customizing Soundwave’s new collar, agonizing over which shade of purple would best contrast against his aide’s navy armor. The engraving was a far simpler matter: Soundwave’s name, with a modifier glyph attached to the end that left no room for doubt as to who owned the mech. It would look positively stunning on Soundwave’s neck—doubly so when Ratbat inevitably attached a leash to the collar and pulled his aide down to his knees.

Impatience curled in Ratbat’s spark, though it was tempered with the simple joy of shopping. Charge was offering a new accessory—one that _hadn’t_ been advertised on Astroin’s ‘Just Added’ page. According to the description: it was a new type of charge simulator, based on a training program designed for mechs with nonstandard processing capabilities, which fit Soundwave perfectly. But _this_ device was designed for couples with size extreme differences. It was meant to generate massive amounts of charge—geared towards a memory stick wanting to cross cables with a shuttleformer or a bot with a deep space alt.

The size difference between himself and Soundwave wasn’t nearly so extreme, but Ratbat added it to his cart anyway. If nothing else else, a few deliberate misadventures with his new toy would put Soundwave off from ever considering interfacing with a shuttleformer.

And then Ratbat would just have to ensure Soundwave wouldn’t consider coupling with anyone _besides_ him. Not just shuttleformers.

After a moment, Ratbat accessed the nonstandard processor training program and added it to his cart: after the campaign ended, he would give it to Soundwave as a reward for his exemplary performance.

Just to be safe, he added a mesh cordage gag to his cart—he wanted to _hear_ Soundwave, but he never knew if the mood to gag his aide might strike.

Ratbat made his purchases—apparently, he had qualified for some kind of free gift. He received the invoice with an estimated time of arrival and was briefly annoyed to realize his purchases likely wouldn’t arrive until _after_ the campaign had reached its conclusion.

Ratbat supposed that was the price of customization.

With his preparation finished, Ratbat turned his attention back to Soundwave. The mech was still and silent—had they not been connected via hardline, Ratbat might have feared Soundwave was simply feigning recharge, but Soundwave was asleep. Very, very asleep.

Ratbat brushed his claws across Soundwave’s frame. He had never done this while Soundwave was asleep, and the mech was _far_ more responsive when he was unconscious. Ratbat looked forward to teaching Soundwave such responsiveness when he was awake was not only pleasant, but _necessary._

As it was, Soundwave sighed as Ratbat’s hands drifted towards his waist. The noise broke the quiet of the room, and Ratbat practically purred.

Ratbat ghosted his fingers across the buttons on Soundwave’s waist and was pleased to see Soundwave’s hips arch up—the movement had been so small as to be nearly imperceptible, but it _was_ there. He examined the buttons a moment longer, keeping some awareness on Soundwave’s level of recharge, before finally giving in to the urge.

He pushed the button.

Soundwave gasped. This time, Ratbat didn’t have to hide his smile. He leaned over Soundwave, fighting the urge to return to his original position above his aide. At random, Ratbat pressed another button in conjunction with the first, and Soundwave _whined._

But he was still asleep.

Likely he was having some _very_ colorful dreams. Ratbat heard Soundwave’s fans kick on as he released the buttons. This time, Soundwave uttered no exclamation, though his tantalizing lips were still parted—and how could Ratbat refuse?

He leaned in, pressing a brief kiss to his aide’s mouth before pulling away. Not daring to believe his luck as Soundwave remained still, Ratbat teased a finger at the corner of his aide’s mouth—the exact spot he had cleaned up the coolant not a quarter cycle before. Soundwave’s mouth opened further, and Ratbat took it as the invitation it was, slipping his fingers into the warm wetness of Soundwave’s mouth.

Soundwave moaned against his hand. Ratbat had never understood some mech’s fascination with having their partners dutifully suck their fingers, but the way Soundwave allowed him to examine his mouth, well…it was nice.

Ratbat withdrew his hand. Soundwave’s allotted rest cycle was coming to a close, and he hadn’t even begun his exploration of Soundwave’s body in full.

Ratbat went to work. One day soon, he would have a full cycle to explore Soundwave’s frame at his own leisure. As it stood, Ratbat could only briefly examine the responsiveness of Soundwave’s frame, taking note of the areas he suspected might be more sensitive than the average.

But his attention was continually drawn back to the buttons.

Curious, Ratbat pressed another button. Soundwave’s hips twitched.

He caressed another and was delighted to hear the telltale sound of an interface array booting up.

Ratbat eyed the buttons with new appreciation. His finger hesitated for just a second before pushing down on another. He was rewarded with the sight of the paneling of Soundwave’s array folding back.

Through the hardline, Ratbat felt the charge creeping into Soundwave’s frame. He wouldn’t do anything about it: besides the fact that he wanted Soundwave to be fully alert for their first coupling, only a few moments remained before Soundwave would wake.

Ratbat wanted their first time to _last._

Instead, he tugged at Soundwave’s cord and imagined how it would feel when he finally got to have Soundwave all to himself, to put Soundwave—and his array—through their paces.

Soundwave’s ports were slightly smaller than average, too—most likely a minor imperfection that had occurred during his creation: mechs like Soundwave were designed to process data, and lots of it. It would likely make using the charge simulator uncomfortable—not that Ratbat minded. Seeing Soundwave struggle against his cuffs as oversized cables stretched out his ports…

Ratbat chastised himself for not thinking to purchase a camera.

Later.

Ratbat tucked the datapad into his subspace: he had lingered a little longer than he thought. Soundwave would wake in a moment.

Leaving Soundwave where he lay, Ratbat disconnected the hardline. He gave Soundwave’s array one final, longing glance before turning to leave. Soundwave would wake to an exposed array and heat crawling under his plating.

Soon.

Soundwave was nearly ready, and when he was…Ratbat would be waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, feedback is welcomed!


	3. Boiling Point

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratbat makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> besides the usual, content warning for: _very_ dubiously consensual pnp, gaslighting, victim blaming (internalized and externalized), lack of aftercare

In the end, it was the aides that brought Soundwave back to Ratbat.

It wasn’t a total surprise—in addition to no longer bothering to conceal the leering, lingering glances at Soundwave, Ratbat had charged them with planning the inevitable celebration of a successful fundraising campaign, and he had made it _explicitly_ clear that Soundwave would be the single aide to attend.

That Ratbat intended Soundwave be remaining at Ratbat’s apartment for some time after was unstated, but they knew. How could they _not?_

Soundwave appeared in the doorway to his office five minutes before his scheduled break. Ratbat looked up, taking in his aide’s clear discomfort, the way he was forcing himself _not_ to look over his shoulder and see his coworkers’ glares.

“Close the door,” Ratbat said.

Soundwave hesitated: it was likely he was picking up another aide’s thoughts about Ratbat’s order. But he complied, then turned to face Ratbat directly.

“Fellow aides: believe Soundwave and Senator Ratbat are interfacing.”

“And?”

Soundwave’s shoulders drooped. Ratbat didn’t know what the mech had been expecting.

“As I told you before I’m certainly not _opposed_ to the idea,” Ratbat said. “And don’t forget: _you_ propositioned _me.”_

Not entirely true. But Ratbat pressed on before Soundwave could contradict him.

“Now, you’re saying your coworkers are spreading misinformation?”

Soundwave nodded helplessly, apparently relieved to be back at the subject at hand.

“Well…” Ratbat stood. Slowly, he made his way to stand in front of Soundwave, who took an instinctive step back. good. “It doesn’t necessarily have to be misinformation, Soundwave. Of course, if coupling will make you _uncomfortable,_ well… _”_

“Soundwave: not…uncomfortable,” Soundwave lied. “Alienation from fellow aides: undesirable.”

Ratbat waved a dismissive hand. “I doubt there’s anything you could do to endear yourself to them at this point, Soundwave. More to the point: you _deserve_ this.”

Soundwave stiffened. Ratbat pressed on, backing up Soundwave until his shoulders hit the door with an audible _thump._

“Your work is impeccable, Soundwave. And your abilities are second to none. How could you _not_ be singled out?” Ratbat widened his optics, feigning understanding. “But if you truly _wouldn’t_ , I won’t force you.”

And now Soundwave was hesitating again. Ratbat would have given anything to see his aide’s thought process—this was the culmination of Ratbat's personal campaign. Excitement bubbled in his spark; he _knew_ what Soundwave would say, but the anticipation was getting to him nonetheless.

“Soundwave: not…opposed.”

That was all Ratbat needed to hear.

He smiled.

“I don’t think anyone will complain if you begin your break a few minutes early, will they?”

They certainly would.

As much as Ratbat wanted to throw Soundwave over the desk, there _were_ still limits to his aide’s tolerations. Those limits would be broken down and modified in time, but for now, Ratbat would only cross them if he could be assured Soundwave wouldn’t flee afterwards.

Ratbat supposed it wouldn’t be a _bad_ thing if his aide tried to break things off. Not yet, of course: not until Ratbat had convinced Soundwave (and his frame) no one but Ratbat could satisfy him. But afterwards? His inevitable return would make Soundwave’s humiliation taste all the sweeter.

If nothing else, Ratbat could always hold the threat of the Institute above Soundwave’s helm.

“Lead the way.”

Ratbat could _feel_ his aides’ seething glares. Soundwave practically crumpled under the weight of their fury—with his abilities, their hatred directed towards him likely felt _excruciating._

A pity the makeshift habsuite was soundproofed.

Ratbat locked the door behind them.

“Now.”

Soundwave was looking between the recharge slab and Ratbat as though he was unsure what to do. Almost as though he was waiting for _orders._

“Tell me Soundwave,” Ratbat purred. “What does a mech like you enjoy?”

Ratbat didn’t particularly care what the answer was—he had his own desires, and eventually, one way or another, Soundwave would fulfill them. If coincidence dictated their interests aligned, all the better. If not, Soundwave would learn.

Ratbat considered himself an excellent teacher.

Soundwave didn’t respond. Impatient, Ratbat snapped his fingers.

_“Soundwave.”_

“Uncer—unknown.” Soundwave was looking at the floor.

_Well._

Ratbat could certainly work with that.

“I may have an idea or two.” He grinned, displaying his teeth. “You seem like the _accommodating_ type.”

Ratbat didn’t give Soundwave a chance to reply. He strode forward, wrapping an arm around Soundwave’s waist and directing him to the berth. Wordlessly, Soundwave lay down, staring up at Ratbat with an unreadable expression on his obscured faceplate. Speaking of…

Ratbat tapped Soundwave’s mask. “Open up.”

Ratbat settled his full weight on Soundwave’s chassis—he wasn’t nearly heavy enough to be uncomfortable, but Soundwave would encounter difficulty getting him off if the mood changed.

Ratbat leaned forward and kissed his aide. His tongue swept the inside of Soundwave’s mouth and the mech shuddered. Ratbat almost laughed—it was almost _too_ easy to get Soundwave worked up. With experience, it would likely change—especially if Soundwave ever got it in his head to _resent_ Ratbat.

Ratbat found himself looking forward to the challenge.

“I’ve seen you looking at my wings,” Ratbat whispered into Soundwave’s neck. Not true—Soundwave didn’t look at _anyone_ unless he absolutely had to, but Soundwave didn’t correct him. “Feel free to touch—gently, now.”

He had to fight the urge to roll his optics as Soundwave’s clumsy, unpracticed fingers ran the length of his wings. Another thing he would need to teach his aide.

“The base of the wings first,” Ratbat chided, and Soundwave nodded. “Slowly.”

In the meantime, he contented himself with exploring Soundwave’s mouth and neck. The buttons on his aide’s waist were his current goal, but it wouldn’t do to go for them immediately. Such an act would only garner suspicion, so for now, Ratbat would play along.

He did, however, raise a knee and lightly rest it against Soundwave’s waist. But it was Soundwave _finally_ touching his rightmost wing joint that had Ratbat shuddering, had his knee coming down to press the button.

As expected, Soundwave gasped, and Ratbat feigned calculated surprise, looking down to the buttons as though a thought had just occurred to him.

Soundwave stifled a groan when Ratbat rubbed his knuckle against the topmost button.

“There’s no need to be so _quiet,_ Soundwave,” Ratbat murmured. “We’re alone.”

He pressed the button opposite and was rewarded with a static-laced whine. To his annoyance, Soundwave removed his hands from Ratbat’s wings and reached towards Ratbat, likely intending to shove his hands away.

Ratbat ignored him. Soundwave pushed uselessly against Ratbat’s unyielding arm, stopping only when a wave of heat shuddered through his systems.

“It’s a pity this campaign is nearly at an end,” Ratbat murmured into Soundwave’s mouth.“I _have_ enjoyed the time we spent together. Have you, Soundwave?” He punctuated the question by resting the weight of his knee fully on Soundwave’s buttons. This time, Soundwave didn’t—or couldn’t—stifle his cry.

Ratbat pretended to be surprised at the sound of his aide’s array activating—his own fans had kicked on at the sound, which added to the deception.

He brushed away Soundwave’s protesting hands and lamenting the tight, sturdy cuffs languishing in some box in Charge’s warehouse. Soundwave’s array buzzed with charge, and Ratbat had to fight a quiet laugh—Soundwave might be having second thoughts, but his body certainly wasn’t.

He conceded, giving Soundwave another taste of familiarity and was pleased when Soundwave responded—perhaps the mech was desperate, trying to stall. More likely, he feared the unknown.

Ratbat allowed the kiss to linger a second longer before pulling back to examine Soundwave’s array.

Ratbat wouldn’t say anything as blatant as _trust me—_ such words would practically guarantee Soundwave would do nothing of the sort.

“Feel this,” Ratbat said, instead, and pushed a finger into one of Soundwave’s ports.

His aide buckled into the touch. Charge shot through Ratbat’s hand and he felt his own array spring to life. Soundwave’s smaller ports would provide a wonderfully snug fit—Ratbat was quickly eager to push his cables inside. For now, he coaxed another finger inside, and Soundwave whined.

It was a needy, _conflicted_ sound.

This time, he didn’t need to hide his grin. Soundwave was trembling, staring at the ceiling as though it could offer some answer to his dilemma. He was tempted to order Soundwave to look at him, to meet his optics so Soundwave would never forget the mech who was doing this to him.

There were other ways to ensure Soundwave would remember, so Ratbat supposed he could let Soundwave have this one small comfort.

“Not to painful, I hope.”

Soundwave didn’t respond, so Ratbat pushed a finger into Soundwave’s secondary port. His aide’s own fingers were digging grooves into the berth--the next aide to use the room would know _exactly_ what happened.

He couldn’t have planned this better if he _tried_.

“Good?” Ratbat asked, and withdrew his fingers. Soundwave hadn’t spoken, but Ratbat supposed the frustrated whine was answer enough.Ratbat took a cable in one hand, and none too gently inserted it into Soundwave’s port.

The connection was…

_Exhilarating._

Ratbat had never felt anything like it.

Evidently, neither had Soundwave, though that was due to sheer inexperience rather than a first coupling with a telepath. Ratbat found himself wondering if _all_ outliers provided such delightfully unique interface experiences—perhaps one day he could make his way to Shockwave’s laughable excuse for an academy and see for himself.

He plugged in the second cable without any fuss—any pain Soundwave was feeling was overridden by the sheer _volume_ of sensation pulsing through their one-way connection. Soundwave shuddered as Ratbat took hold of a cable and plugged it into his port, and was immediately rewarded with a dizzying rush of charge.

This would be quick, Ratbat realized. He much preferred a protracted setup, but this would have to do. Besides—this was certainly not the last time Ratbat and his aide would interface.

“S—“ Soundwave’s voice cracked. _“Senator.”_

“Yes?” Ratbat purred, and dragged his claws down Soundwave’s frame. One day, he would know every panel and seam better than Soundwave, but for now he could only guess which of Soundwave’s transformation seams were the most sensitive.

_“Ratbat.”_

“That _is_ my name, Soundwave.” Amused, Ratbat watched as Soundwave blindly fumbled for his second cable before holding it out helplessly to Ratbat.

Ratbat accepted, and promptly drew his glossa against the tip of the cable. Soundwave very nearly _screamed,_ and it was music to Ratbat’s audials. He protracted the torment a moment longer, biting down softly on the protometal and feeling the electricity tickle his mouth, then acquiesced and guided it into his port.

With the feedback loop established, Soundwave’s own, massive charge shot through Ratbat’s systems and he very nearly overloaded on the spot. Soundwave was close—it would only take the slightest of nudges. The only thing to decide was what Ratbat could do to push him over the edge. The catalyst to Soundwave’s first overload with _any_ mech. Not just Ratbat. The thing that Ratbat had determined would tie Soundwave to him for the rest of his existence.

“You deserve this, Soundwave,” Ratbat whispered. “Do not let _anyone_ tell you otherwise.”

Ratbat leaned forward and bit down on Soundwave’s neck.

The force of his overload pushed Ratbat over the edge as well—he lost his grip on Soundwave’s neck cabling and slumped forward as the charge briefly shorted out his motor functions. Beneath him, Soundwave was a whimpering mass of overstimulated sensory nets and telepathy.

Ratbat lay still for a moment as his systems came back online. Through their connection, Soundwave was a mess of deliciously contrasting emotions: the relief that it was _over,_ the surprise that it had happened so quickly…the humiliation that Soundwave hadn’t _wanted_ any of this, yet he had agreed to it, and he had _enjoyed_ it, so did that mean he had actually wanted it all along?

“Well,” Ratbat murmured, when he had recovered, reaching down to disconnect their cables. “I certainly hope that lived up to your expectations, Soundwave.”

Wordlessly Soundwave nodded, and Ratbat grinned.

“I’m certain you can see the benefit in future couplings,” Ratbat said. “I can’t imagine it would be easy to find a stranger willing to indulge your unique tastes.”

He stood, allowing Soundwave to make of that what he wished.

Soundwave would need to be back at his desk in a few moments—he would be going this cycle without any recharge at all.

Ratbat knew from experience Soundwave would end this next cycle a nervous wreck. He’d never been able to fully determine _why—_ perhaps, after such a dizzying experience, mechs’ processors struggled to cope with the abrupt return to normalcy? Whatever the cause, by the time his next recharge cycle approached, Soundwave would most _definitely_ need Ratbat’s help to recharge.

It was help Ratbat was more than willing to provide.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> feedback is always appreciated.


	4. Intermission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soundwave gets a break. 
> 
> And then he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw: internalized guilt, victim-blaming, fade to black.

Ravage knew.

How could he not? The moment Soundwave entered the apartment, Ravage’s plating flared, and Soundwave suspected it was only the presence of Laserbeak and Buzzsaw that stopped the felid from outright snarling.

Soundwave had managed the requisite greetings, the affectionate touches against his armor that felt like fire. Thankfully, his friends had understood—they might know the specifics of what happened, but they understood that he was absolutely _exhausted._

Ravage didn’t speak until Soundwave got into the washracks. His distaste of the showers was well documented, but it seemed the time had come to make an exception. His claws clicked quietly against the slick tile, coming to a stop just outside the arc of spray.

“You shouldn’t have.”

Soundwave was curled up on the floor of the washracks, feeling the cold spray pound against his armor. The heater had been out for the better part of a week, Laserbeak said, and the building superintendent refused to come up Soundwave wasn’t around to manage his ‘pets’. Laserbeak had punctuated that last remark with a disdainful glyph, and Soundwave wished he had it in himself to commiserate. He had only managed a gentle, sympathetic pat on Laserbeak’s helm before staggering into the washracks and closing the door behind him.

Soundwave didn’t respond.

Ravage stepped directly into the spray. He sniffed Soundwave’s armor again, and the disgust emendating from his frame was overpowered only by his concern. Ravage slipped under Soundwave’s arm and tucked himself neatly against Soundwave’s chassis.

“He’s going to do it again.”

Soundwave pressed his face against the back of Ravage’s neck, drinking in his concern. His _kindness._ Soundwave had almost forgotten what that felt like.

Soundwave managed a single, shaky exhale. He pulled Ravage tighter.

“He already did.”

This time, Ravage didn’t hold back a snarl. Soundwave didn’t mind—in its own way, the vibration against his frame was soothing.

 _“Soundwave.”_ Ravage’s breath was warm against his forearm. Soundwave shut his optics down and basked in the felid’s warmth.

Ravage didn’t speak for another moment, though his thoughts were loud. Soundwave didn’t respond to them—he was trying to get better about that—not listening in, though it was a useful skill, which mean he _should_ be practicing it instead.

It was…

Soundwave shuddered.

It was what Ratbat would want.

“Don’t go back.” Ravage’s voice was quiet. “We’ll figure something out.”

Soundwave shook his helm. Ravage sighed.

“Ratbat: holds influence. Threat of Institute remains in play.”

“He _threatened_ you?”

“Not directly.” Perhaps Ravage would understand the flavor of the implied threat, when Soundwave had pulled away the third time they coupled. Ratbat hadn’t _needed_ to say anything, he just needed to half-think it to himself—not even to Soundwave. But he had heard it all the same.

“Soundwave will remain. _Must_ remain.”

Ravage growled again, and soundwave shuttered his optics.

“Are you going to tell them?” Ravage asked, finally. Red and yellow flashed through Soundwave’s mind, accompanied by Ravage’s warm solidity.

“Should I?”

Ravage shrugged against Soundwave’s armor.

“They know something’s up.” Ravage said. “But not exactly _what_.”

“Later,” Soundwave decided, and Ravage nodded.

Ravage waited as Soundwave pulled up one of his favorite tracks—a remix of the Tegressian Orchestra he’d found in an alleyway in the Dead End. The washracks weren’t soundproofed, and neither of them were in the mood to deal with another noise complaint.

But it was enough.

Ravage stayed with him until Soundwave felt well enough to stand. He applied a final wash of soap, scrubbing until Ravage nosed his armor and gave it begrudging approval, then rinsed off.

The birds were gone by the time he dried off and exited the washracks. There was a hastily-scribbled note left on the end table. Soundwave read it over—they had gone out to grab dinner from their favorite beastformer-friendly restaurant and would be back within the hour, so if Soundwave and Ravage wanted _anything_ other than their usual, they should comm them ASAP.

Beneath his mask, Soundwave smiled.

Ravage followed him to the berth. It was far larger than the one in the Senate building. Soundwave felt the armor around his chassis tighten.

He lay down and Ravage jumped up beside him, waiting until Soundwave had found something resembling a comfortable spot before settling down on Soundwave’s chest.

Thankfully, Ravage seemed determined to _not_ mention the fact that Soundwave likely still smelled like Ratbat, despite the generous application of soap Soundwave had lathered onto his frame.

The felid purred approvingly as Soundwave gently scratched under his chin, closing his optics until they were red slits in the dim light.

Soundwave shut off his own optics and powered down.

Two cycles later, Soundwave awoke from his first truly restful recharge in over a month.

His comm line was pinging insistently—on a priority frequency reserved only for work.

The energon in his lines seemed to congeal as the reality of his situation sunk in. In celebration of a successful campaign, Ratbat had given them all ten cycles of paid vacation. Soundwave had planned to use the time to figure out what _exactly_ he was going to do about the situation he had brought upon himself.

But it seemed Ratbat wanted to see him.

Soundwave couldn’t find it in himself to be entirely surprised. He opened the message: Ratbat was inviting him to a private celebration marking the successful end of his campaign. The glyphs describing the invitation were professional, but made it clear that while it was an invitation, it was _certainly_ not a request.

Soundwave supposed he was lucky that the celebration was not to take place until the late evening, leaving him with nearly full cycle to spend with Ravage.

Ravage had tucked himself under the recharge slab at some point while Soundwave slept, and the birds were out once again—they had picked up a part time job at a courier service, and were probably at work. On his agenda, Soundwave noted that the appointment to fix the hot water had been set for the next cycle. If nothing else, it would give him a reason to leave Ratbat’s party if it went on through the night.

Soundwave was not naive enough to believe it _wouldn’t._

To put it plainly: for whatever reason, the Senator had taken a liking to him.

Soundwave wasn’t given to more self-reflection than strictly necessary: parsing out his own feelings from the motives and desires of everyone else was difficult enough on a good day, never mind when they had become so entangled.

He wasn’t sure where his thoughts on the matter ended and Ratbat’s began. He hadn’t begun the fundraising campaign wanting to interface with the senator, but he had _ended it…_

Was it possible to separate the physical pleasure of coupling from the utter disgust he felt whenever Ratbat looked at him? Soundwave hadn’t lied to Ratbat: he _was_ woefully inexperienced in those matters, and while Ratbat could—and did—lie, Soundwave did not doubt that Ratbat was telling the truth: it was highly doubtful that Soundwave would be able to find another mech willing to indulge him.

Soundwave sighed.

It wasn’t as though Ratbat had done anything _wrong._ Everything he had asked, or demanded, Soundwave had agreed to. Ratbat hadn’t forced him to do _anything._

And _had_ he enjoyed it?

Even now, the thought of being pinned beneath Ratbat, the memory of teeth digging into his throat had Soundwave’s core temperature kicking up a notch.

He _did_ like it, Soundwave decided. And if he didn’t, he would tolerate it—he had endured starvation and endless sensory overstimulation, the disgust of his peers. He had survived the _Dead End._ He had survived that, and he would survive this.

Soundwave opened the refrigeration unit and was pleased to see that the birds had managed to leave his food alone. Soundwave ate slowly—despite being nearly three days old, the food was as good as ever. Far better than anything he could find in the Dead End.

He didn’t know how long Ratbat’s infatuation would last—but it would run its course, Soundwave was sure. Soundwave hadn’t been around Ratbat long enough to know how long the Senator’s obsessions lasted, but surely it couldn’t last _that_ long. Another month, perhaps. Or maybe two. And then some other interest would catch his optic, and Soundwave could deal with the fallout of _that_ when it came time. As long as his position as Ratbat’s employment remained intact—or if Ratbat could come around to firing him _without_ calling the Institute in a fit of anger—Soundwave could live with that.

That seemed like the best option. Soundwave finished his meal and tossed the container into the trash, then began the arduous task of doing whatever housework his companions and their non-opposable thumbs were incapable of doing.

It was relaxing, mindless work. At one point, Ravage woke, and dutifully, Soundwave sent him a copy of the invitation, refusing to meet the felid’s optics as Ravage’s thoughts let Soundwave know _exactly_ how he felt about Ratbat’s proposition. But Ravage kept his words to himself, and helped Soundwave with the cleaning wherever he could.

The rest of the day passed by in comfortingly mundane work, and before long, Soundwave found himself back in the washracks, cleaning in preparation for Ratbat’s party.

He was a little disappointed to see that Laserbeak and Buzzsaw weren’t back when he was ready to leave, but they were expecting another eight cycles with him, weren’t they?

Ravage butted the back of his legs as he turned to leave. Soundwave’s words caught in his throat as he turned to acknowledge the felid’s presence, so he just nodded, petting Ravage’s ears as he walked out the door.

He couldn’t bring himself to look back.

* * *

The lateness of the hour guaranteed Soundwave arrived at Ratbat’s early—it wasn’t what he intended, but in hindsight, he supposed that was for the best. It wouldn’t do to give his employer the impression Soundwave was trying to avoid him.

Soundwave tried not to admire the extravagant decor of Ratbat’s estate, but found his optics being drawn to the ornate designs engraved into the marble walls. The rooms were not divided off by doors, but rather, gauzy, filmy material was hung in the doorways. Soundwave would not have enjoyed that lack of privacy, but he supposed that when everything belonged to you, you didn’t _need_ privacy.

As he stood in the elevator, Soundwave tried to hone in on the presence of any other mechs who were already at the party, but he could not sense any. Not unusual—not _everyone_ stood out as strongly as mechs like Ratbat did, and Ratbat’s presence _was_ overpowering.

“Soundwave!” Ratbat’s oily voice felt brighter than normal. He was actually _happy,_ Soundwave realized, or as happy as a mech like him could ever be. “I apologize for the miscommunication—it seems your fellow aides neglected to give you the correct time of our party.”

Soundwave nodded, taking in the cleaning drones hard at work removing the tiny, ornate glasses of engex and imported sweets from the table.

Somehow, he couldn’t find it in himself to be surprised.

Ratbat strode forward, and Soundwave nearly recoiled as the Senator’s hand came into contact with his plating. He had somehow managed to forget how _intense_ Ratbat’s presence could be.

But intense was what he wanted, wasn’t it? What he _needed._

“Come.” Ratbat took his arm and led him past the dining area, into what must have been one of the Senator’s many sitting rooms. “I was delighted when my gift for you arrived just this morning—sadly, you’ll only be able to wear it around me, but now that you have a free cycle, it’s the _perfect_ time to try it on, isn’t it?”

Soundwave studied the crinkle of overcharge dancing across Ratbat’s normally ironclad exterior. Though picking up Ratbat’s _feelings_ were a simple matter, Soudnwave was rarely able to get a good handle on the Senator’s thoughts without adequate time to focus. In the past it had been a boon, giving Soundwave something difficult _to_ focus on, but now…

Now Soundwave badly wished otherwise.

He watched as Ratbat pushed a box into his hands. Feeling the Senator’s optics on his frame, Soundwave opened it, trying to stifle the dread creeping into his systems.

It was a collar: the shame shade of violet as Ratbat’s plating, with Soundwave’s name engraved in muted silver. That Ratbat had attached a modifier glyph to the end…Soundwave didn’t want to think about it.

“Delightful, isn’t it?” Ratbatt was saying, apparently uncaring that Soundwave hadn’t responded. “I must say, keeping it a secret from you was terribly difficult, but it’s here now, and—here: let me help you put it on.”

Before Soundwave could protest, Ratbat took the collar from its box and affixed it to Soundwave’s neck. It was very nearly hidden—a mech would need to _look_ to ensure it wasn’t a mere trick of the light, and not for the first time, Soundwave found himself grateful that his and Ratbat’s color schemes were complementary.

Unbidden, he raised a hand to touch it—Ratbat hadn’t pulled it so tight that he couldn’t breathe, but it was tight enough that Soundwave would encounter difficulty forgetting it was there.

“Lovely, isn’t it?”

Ratbat leaned down, making a show of examining the collar and Soundwave very nearly shuddered as a wave of lust rolled off the Senator’s frame and shot right through Soundwave’s array.

“As I said,” Ratbat burred, and this time Soundwave couldn’t conceal a shudder as Ratbat’s teeth ghosted across the cabling in his neck. “You’ll only be allowed to wear it in private, but we’ll simply have to make good use of that time, won’t we?”

Ratbat had intended it as a non-rhetorical question, so Soundwave nodded dumbly, unsure exactly _what_ ‘good use’ Ratbat intended to put it to.

He supposed he would soon be finding out.

Ratbat inclined his helm at the sofa, and obediently, Soundwave sat.

He submitted himself to Ratbat’s examination of his frame, choosing instead to let the cloying, tantalizing feeling of Ratbat’s arousal kick his fans into high gear. Ratbat’s claws were uniquely suited to worming their way under his plating, digging into nerve circuits no mech had ever before touched, and that wasn’t even taking into account the fact that Ratbat knew _exactly_ how to push his buttons—

“Here.” Ratbat pushed a glass of engex against Soundwave’s mouth—when had he retracted his mask? “I assure you, Iacon’s older vintages are second to none.”

Soundwave drank gratefully, well aware Ratbat was watching his throat as it worked around the collar.

He had nothing to compare this engex to—it tasted better than the cheap, semi-filtered stuff Buzzsaw brought home once in a while, but most things did. This was silky smooth against his tongue, warm, with the barest taste of—silver?

Soundwave didn’t know.

Ratbat watched approvingly as Soundwave finished the glass. His inhibitions had faded into a persistent hum that sounded a little like Ravage’s purring, but it could easily be ignored if Soundwave simply concentrated on the matter at hand.

It didn’t come as a surprise when Ratbat’s hand wandered down to nudge the buttons on Soundwave’s waist. If that was what he wanted—Soundwave ordered the activation of his array, but Ratbat frowned and shook his helm.

“I _much_ prefer to do it on my own, Soundwave. Now—lie down and let me take care of you, hmm?”

Oh. Soundwave wasn’t sure how he felt about _that,_ but he complied, leaning back on the couch.

“You remember how the wings work, yes?”

Soundwave mumbled an affirmative, though the words were drowned out by a yelp as Ratbat’s claw scraped Soundwave’s inner thigh.

“Let’s play a game, Soundwave.” Ratbat’s optics shone, and Soundwave nodded. “Your hands on my wings, my hands on your buttons. The first of us to surrender—that is, to activate our array—is the loser.”

“Consequences for losing?”

They were the first words Soundwave had managed in his entire time here, he realized. Until now, Ratbat had been doing all the talking.

“Oh, I’m sure we’ll figure something out.” Ratbat’s voice was light, though it failed to entirely conceal… _something._ Spite? That wasn’t correct. Something similar—an emotion Soundwave couldn’t put a name to. “Now, Soundwave: may the best mech win.”

Soundwave struggled to remember what Ratbat had told him during their first coupling: the wings themselves weren’t sensitive until the nerve circuits at—he bit back another yelp as Ratbat’s claw found its way to the narrow space in between a button and his armor—the base? Probably the base. Until the nerve circuits at the base were proper stimulated.

So he would need to start there.

Gracelessly, Soundwave traced the seams of Ratbat’s back, and was rewarded with a soft moan. Encouraged, Soundwave applied further pressure and Ratbat’s wings twitched, nearly hitting him in the face.

Soundwave tried valiantly to focus on his task, to ignore the heat building up in his systems. Ratbat was alternating between pressing buttons and drawing his claws along the length of Soundwave’s hips, and _surely_ he could feel how close Soundwave was to losing control.

Soundwave bit down on a frustrated cry and took one of Ratbat’s wing joints in one hand, only to feel his hips arch as Ratbat pried out the cry anyway with a single expertly placed touch.

“I know you can do better than that, Soundwave.” Ratbat’s voice was chiding, as though he were merely criticizing one of Soundwave’s reports. “Try again.”

Soundwave whispered an affirmative, determinedly working his fingers into the wing joint’s plating as far as they would go. Ratbat trembled.

“Better, Soundwave.” The maddening claws on his body froze, and Soundwave wasn’t sure whether to be angry or relieved. “You’re learning. Now: continue.”

Soundwave gritted his teeth and continued, reaching his spare hand for Ratbat’s other wing when the senator abruptly pressed down on a button at random. Soundwave yelped in surprise and was dismayed to hear the telltale sound of plating shifting as his array booted up.

“Mm.”

Giving in entirely, Soundwave dropped his hands from Ratbat’s wing, which was just as well: the Senator turned, eyeing Soundwave’s exposed array with something akin to glee.

Or hunger.

His fingers hovered over Soundwave’s ports and Soundwave preemptively winced. Instead, Ratbat hooked a claw through Soundwave’s collar and tugged, prompting Soundwave to lift his head to meet his gaze.

“I hope you did not have plans for tonight, Soundwave,” Ratbat murmured, and Soundwave heard the Senator’s own array coming to life.

“We may be here for some time.”

His lips came to meet Soundwave’s, then, and Soundwave closed his eyes.


	5. True Functions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'Oh it's just been a few weeks since I updated' I say, 'definitely not nearly a month!' 
> 
> Anyway. This chapter has been stuck in editing hell for nearly that long. The good news is...the next chapter is the start of a bit of catharsis for Soundwave (and hopefully for you all).
> 
> Besides the usual, this chapter has warnings for: nonconsensual somonophilia, dubcon, dubcon oral, and gaslighting.

Soundwave awoke in an unfamiliar room to a pounding headache and his wrists cuffed to a headboard.

His vision swam with pinging data streams and the taste of his own hangover—he didn’t recall indulging in more than a glass or two over the course of last night, but after a point, things had gotten…very blurry.

More to the point: his interface array was uncomfortably sore, something that had never happened before. Perhaps it had been the sheer length of time he and Ratbat had been free to interface, or it had been—

Soundwave eyed his bound wrists with no small amount of concern.

He could sense Ratbat close by. Though the Senator’s presence blanketed every surface in his estate, Soundwave was relatively certain Ratbat was within hearing range, but Soundwave couldn’t bring himself to speak. Instead, he opened a comm channel and pinged Ratbat.

His request was met with an affirmative ping, and five minutes later Ratbat appeared in the doorway, looking…

Certainly not looking like _anything_ had happened the previous night.

“I am _delighted_ to see that you’re awake,” Ratbat murmured. “Last night wasn’t too much for you, I hope?”

“Release requested,” Soundwave said, though he dreaded the eventual need to get up and actually _walk._ He didn’t think Ratbat would actually force him to _crawl,_ but…Soundwave wasn’t sure.

He wasn’t sure of anything.

“Of course, of course.”

With a quiet _click,_ the cuffs fell away, and Soundwave’s systems confirmed that while he was sore, nothing was damaged badly enough that he would require a medic. Soundwave tried not to look at the sharp red spikes of _pain_ that covered his frame as he tried to stand, only to stumble and fall into Ratbat’s waiting arms.

“I’ve just prepared an oil bath,” Ratbat said. “Do join me.”

Before Soundwave could protest, never mind ask what an oil bath _was,_ Ratbat half-led, half-carried Soundwave into the most magnificent washroom he had ever seen. It was just as elaborate as every other room in Ratbat’s estate, and Soundwave eyed the massive showers—he had no doubt that _Ratbat’s_ heater never went out of order.

“Soundwave: must go,” Soundwave said, abruptly remembering his appointment. “Repairs: about to be conducted at my apartment.”

“So soon?” Ratbat ran a hand across his chest. Despite himself, Soundwave shuddered.

“Within the hour.”

“Ah. Then you have time.” He stepped into the oil bath, and beckoned Soundwave to follow.

Almost against his will, Soundwave complied.

It was viscous, delightfully warm against his sore joints. Soundwave felt himself relax against the comforting heat and couldn’t bring himself to protest when Ratbat pulled him into his lap.

“You looked terribly sore, Soundwave.” Ratbat’s teeth scraped against the side of his helm. “I hope I didn’t push you too far last night—you seemed like you were having _such_ a good time.”

Soundwave nodded, unsure what Ratbat wanted him to say. He shut his optics, letting his senses spiral out and focus on the warmth of the oil bath, the way Ratbat’s hands worked the pain out of his joints.

“I notice you didn’t cover your array,” Ratbat murmured. “Does it hurt that badly?”

In truth, it _had,_ though now Soundwave was glad he hadn’t. But he nodded—the oil was doing a magnificent job of relaxing the tense, stiff sensors, seeping into his ports to offer welcoming comfort.

“Let me see if I can help you with that.”

Ratbat adjusted his position, bringing his knee up in between Soundwave’s legs and tipping him back just enough that he had to fully lean on Ratbat or risk toppling over and being submerged in the oil. One hand snaked around Soundwave’s body, holding his arms and chassis still, and the other—

Involuntary charge shuddered through Soundwave’s systems as Ratbat slipped his fingers into Soundwave’s port.

“It won’t do to let the protometal heal incorrectly” Ratbat said. Was such a thing even _possible?_ Soundwave didn’t know. “This will ensure everything gets back into its rightful place.”

Soundwave tried to adjust his position, to change just _where_ the tip of Ratbat’s claw hit his internals, and Ratbat’s grip on him tightened.

“Do try to relax, Soundwave. I don’t want to make this any more uncomfortable for you than it absolutely must be.”

The lie tasted like acid.

Soundwave forced himself to relax, imagining Ratbat at the other end of a hardline, coaxing his systems into letting his body sleep.

 _“Good.”_ Ratbat mouthed Soundwave’s neck and Soundwave turned his head, allowing Ratbat greater access to the cabling connecting his helm to his chassis. “I knew you would enjoy this.”

 _Was_ he enjoying it? He liked the oil bath, certainly, but the feeling of Ratbat’s hands on his frame— _in_ his frame—Soundwave wasn’t sure.

He supposed he could figure it out another time. Ratbat was withdrawing his hands, leaving Soundwave a strutless pile of armor in the senator’s lap.

“Better?”

Soundwave nodded. He lay still a moment longer, reveling in the sensation of weightlessness, anchored only by Ratbat’s presence.

“Get yourself cleaned up.” Ratbat gestured to the washracks, when the time had ticked down another twenty minutes. “Your ‘friends’ are waiting.”

* * *

Soundwave was halfway home before realizing he had forgotten to ask Ratbat to remove the collar.

It was far too late to turn around—besides the fact that Ratbat would undoubtably try and persuade him to remain, he would inevitably be late to let the maintenance mech in, and his friends had gone on long enough without basic amenities. Hopefully the mech wouldn’t look too closely—Soundwave could explain it to Ravage and the birds, but to a total stranger? Soundwave cringed.

He sent a preemptive, explanatory ping to Ravage, and received a furious response, then a public communications frequency.

The  Jhiaxian Academy of Advanced Technology had burned down two weeks ago, taking with it the previously unknown (to Soundwave, at least) resources available to outliers. But its few remaining employees remained devoted to the academy’s original purpose, had allegedly been supplying outliers with networking opportunities and assistance finding jobs. Soundwave wasn’t sure he believed it, but either Ravage did, or he was desperate enough to _want to._

Soundwave transformed, hiking his shoulders up awkwardly to conceal as much of the collar as he could. Thankfully, the elevator up to his apartment was both functional _and_ otherwise unoccupied, giving him a moment to collect himself. 

He had been so caught up in getting back to his friends that the soreness of his joints and frames had faded to an uncomfortable hum in the background of his awareness. But now it returned in full, and Soundwave despairingly thought of the comforting warmth of the oil bath. 

The elevator doors opened and Soundwave stepped into the hall. He unlocked the door with hands that only _slightly_ trembled and was met with three concerned beastformers. 

None of them, thankfully, mentioned the collar, though Soundwave _knew_ Buzzsaw and Laserbeak noticed it. Soundwave sent a quick message to the building’s landlord, acknowledging that he was home and ready to let the repair mech in. A ping landed in his inbox, and Soundwave had half a second to be quietly impressed by the landlord’s response before realizing it was a message from Ratbat, requesting Soundwave to return once the repairs to his apartment were completed. 

_“Again?”_

Soundwave looked down. Ravage was glowering at—not at _him,_ Soundwave knew, but at the ping. Considering the ping had gone straight to Soundwave’s internal communications network, Ravage ended up glowering at Soundwave anyway. 

“Ravage: has newly acquired mind reader abilities?” 

The beastformer snarled. 

“We’re worried about you.” Laserbeak nipped Soundwave’s audial. “Where else are we gonna get a mech like you?” 

“Who else is gonna share the good energon with us?” Buzzsaw muttered. 

Soundwave nodded. With his friends clustered around him, their minds a comforting, familiar cacophony against his processor, his situation felt simultaneously more dire, yet far more _workable_ than it had last night. 

“Soundwave: will contact academy advisors, seek assistance finding a new position.” 

_“Good.”_ Ravage clambered up to his usual place in Soundwave’s lap. He swatted the collar derisively. “Want me to chew it off?”

“Negative.” Soundwave obligingly scratched Ravage’s chin. The felid relaxed, though his optics were still narrowed. Suspicious. “Unwise to incur Ratbat’s wrath prior to departure.” 

“Hn. _Fine.”_

Soundwave nodded, relieved. He would get through this—he would go to Ratbat after this, and then tomorrow he would contact the mechs at the Academy helpline. 

And then…Soundwave wasn’t sure what happened after _that,_ but the fact that there _was_ an end to this? 

He felt better already. 

* * *

Ratbat spent the intervening hours between Soundwave’s departure and his inevitable return working, to the point where he was a _little_ startled when Soundwave pinged to alert him that he had arrived. 

The financial side of his fundraising campaign had been mostly sorted out by the time Ratbat sent the elevator down to collect Soundwave. Proteus and Sentinel had been given their cut, leaving Ratbat with a healthy enough profit— _especially_ since he and his best employee had been rather distracted by the end of the campaign. 

He decided to greet Soundwave with a kiss, and was delighted to see that Soundwave had already removed his mask. His newest acquisition was learning, and that would make Ratbat’s job so much easier. Ratbat had struggled to conceal his delight that Soundwave hadn’t returned to request Ratbat remove the collar—Ratbat hadn’t left it on deliberately, but Proteus _did_ have a saying about happy accidents…

Ratbat didn’t bother asking Soundwave how his day had been. His aide was still walking with a limp, and Ratbat could practically _feel_ the mech’s joints protesting as he clamped a hand over his shoulder and steered Soundwave towards one of the rooms Ratbat used for entertainment. 

“I don’t try this with many mechs,” the lie came out smoothly enough. “But _you_ seem particularly suited to this.” 

He studied Soundwave’s usually inscrutable face, turned delightfully expressive by the simple removal of his mask. Ratbat sent the command to activate his array, and he sat on one of the couches, wordlessly gesturing to Soundwave that he was to kneel. 

He admired the way Soundwave’s jaw tightened as he complied.Ratbat rested one hand against the back of his aide’s helm, wordlessly directing his mouth towards Ratbat’s open ports. 

“What—“ Soundwave’s uncertain gasp felt _wonderful_ against his array. Ratbat fought the urge to make a jibe at Soundwave’s inexperience and tightened his grip.

“Your mouth,” Ratbat said. “Use it.” 

Not giving him a chance to reply, or to back out, Ratbat pushed him _slightly_ closer. Soundwave’s lips danced across sensitive circuits and Ratbat didn’t quite manage to bite back a gasp. 

“Go on,” Ratbat said, encouragingly. “You’ll know if you do something wrong.”

Soundwave _hated_ being given vague instructions. Given the situation, his irritation—and anxiety—was probably compounded, but Ratbat simply lay back, lazily stroking his aide’s helm as Soundwave clumsily mouthed Ratbat’s ports. 

It was a slow, torturous climb to build up charge. While he wouldn’t mind doing it like this to _Soundwave,_ watching his aide shift uncomfortably against restraints as Ratbat tended to him, Ratbat far preferred something more _immediate._

“Come now, Soundwave,” Ratbat murmured, without looking down at Soundwave. “Let’s put that glossa of yours to use, or we’ll _both_ be here all night.” 

He felt Soundwave hesitate, his mouth freezing against Ratbat’s cabling. 

At the first, tentative touch of Soundwave’s glossa against his port, Ratbat bit back a relieved moan. He lifted his legs, resting them on Soundwave’s shoulders as he pulled Soundwave even closer, holding him securely in place. The first hint of charge shot through Ratbat’s systems. 

_“Soundwave,”_ Ratbat murmured, as Soundwave (accidentally, he was sure) brushed over a particularly sensitive circuit cluster. “I do believe we’ve found your function.” 

Soundwave froze, and Ratbat had was caught between laughing and demanding Soundwave put his mouth back to work. It wasn’t that Ratbat was _lying—_ well, he was: Soundwave had clearly been sparked with a borderline-disposablealt mode, probably designed to work under an intellectual-class mech. 

And he _was_ working under an intellectual-class mech. Just not the way Primus—or Soundwave—intended. Ratbat didn’t bother to look down at Soundwave; by this point, Soundwave would either comply…or he wouldn’t. And Ratbat would bet his shares in  Astroin that out of sheer spite, he would double down on his efforts— _if_ Ratbat said the right thing. 

“You’re clearly good at this,” Ratbat murmured. “And _I’m_ terribly pleased with your performance thus far.”

“Soundwave…” Soundwave’s breath was hot against his array. Ratbat’s grip on Soundwave’s shoulders tightened. “Unsure—”

“Let’s _make_ certain, then.” Ratbat said, impatient. “Get back to it, Soundwave.”

Soundwave nodded into Ratbat’s array, perhaps relieved to have _something_ to do other than think about Ratbat’s work. Ratbat had a moment to be irritated that he’d never installed the organic-inspired interface mods Proteus and some of the others enjoyed—Soundwave’s mouth would look _delightful_ when put to work like that. 

Perhaps later. 

“That’s enough,” Ratbat said, once his charge had built up to a higher—but still manageable—level. Soundwave drew back, relieved. Ratbat patted the couch, and Soundwave sat, laying back when Ratbat pushed him down. 

Ratbat tapped Soundwave’s plating impatiently, and was delighted to see that Soundwave was _already_ carrying a not-insignificant amount of charge. Pinning Soundwave down with one expert hand, Ratbat got to work, running his glossa against Soundwave’s ports. Soundwave trembled, whether from arousal or pain Ratbat wasn’t sure—last night, he _had_ been a little rougher on the mech than Soundwave was used to, hadn’t he? Pain or no, charge _did_ jump from Soundwave’s ports to Ratbat’s glossa. 

Ratbat mumbled quiet, flippant praise into Soundwave’s array, smiling as his aide struggled and choked out static. 

Soundwave’s legs were _shaking._ A new tic? Or was he _truly_ that close to overload? Ratbat had never overloaded someone using just his mouth before. It amused him that Soundwave would be the first. 

He drew back and Soundwave _whined—_ Ratbat could nearly _hear_ the conflict in the mech’s processor. Discomfort warring with pure pleasure, his disgust at _himself_ warring with his disgust at Ratbat.

Ratbat brushed the tip of his tongue against Soundwave’s secondary port. 

_“Ratbat.”_

It was barely a whisper, but it was music to Ratbat’s audials. Ratbat hummed an acknowledgment: he would need to play this out carefully if he wanted to draw it out any further. He _did,_ if only to prolong Soundwave’s experience. But Ratbat had other plans for the night which _didn’t_ involve stringing his aide along. 

Hm. Perhaps a moment more.

Ratbat left Soundwave’s port wanting and bit down on the housing that stored Soundwave’s cables. Soundwave arched deeper into Ratbat’s mouth, and his trembling legs beat an unsteady, frantic rhythm against Ratbat’s shoulders.

Again, Ratbat withdrew. 

He could keep Soundwave like this for _hours,_ Ratbat knew: always on the verge of a painfully thorough overload, but never _quite_ able to reach the edge. Seeing Soundwave so strung out, so painfully _uncomfortable_ was…

Perhaps Ratbat could postpone his plans a little longer. 

“Let’s see if you picked any of that up.”

Ratbat pulled away, ignoring the way Soundwave’s legs instinctively tightened around him. Wordlessly, he gestured to his own array. 

For a moment, he thought Soundwave might actually stoop to _begging._ But Soundwave sat up, hand clenched around his ports as though his fingers could draw out the pent-up charge. And—while the idea of Ratbat ordering Soundwave to self-service _while_ his aide’s mouth was servicing his array was tempting, he didn’t think Soundwave was quite ready for that. 

He wouldn’t tell Soundwave to stop _,_ though. 

Soundwave dropped to his knees. Ratbat snuck a glance at his aide’s array—he _did_ have a finger shoved in there. 

His aide approached Ratbat’s array with an enthusiasm Ratbat rarely saw outside of vids. His desperation must have been far greater than Ratbat anticipated, and the sheer _need_ clouding Soundwave’s field was…

Intoxicating. 

Soundwave likely wouldn’t be able to get him to overload—not that Ratbat _minded._ He would be getting multiple overloads once Soundwave succumbed to recharge. Now was simply a test of his aide’s willingness to seek relief. 

“Better.” In reality, Soundwave was _excellent._ “I _said_ that you were good at this, didn’t I? Soundwave?” 

Soundwave nodded, quick and desperate.

“Shall help you finish?” Ratbat asked casually? “Or would you prefer do do it yourself?” 

“Ratbat’s assistance: req—requested.” 

“Come on then,” Ratbat said, feigning impatience. “Oh, don’t bother,” he said, as Soundwave began to struggle to his feet. “The floor is fine.” 

With practiced ease, Ratbat got back to exploring Soundwave’s array with his mouth, drinking in Soundwave’s desperate whimpers, the way his legs trembled and his fingers dug into the floor. From this angle, Ratbat doubted his cameras would be able to fully record the show, but…they would certainly record these delightful sounds. 

Soundwave overloaded with a sharp cry, thighs clamping hard around Ratbat. The force of it nearly sent Ratbat over the edge as well, though he managed to hold back—barely. He wasn’t known for his patience, but tonight, what he wanted from Soundwave wouldn’t happen while his aide was awake. Better to give Soundwave his relief now, rather than have his aide wake up when Ratbat was in the middle of entertaining himself. 

Ratbat smiled. Soundwave’s optics were offline—had he done it on purpose, Ratbat wondered, or had they been short circuited during the overload?

If it was the former…he wondered if Soundwave had been imagining someone else. 

He couldn’t imagine Soundwave’s _type,_ the kind of mech he might have gravitated towards had Ratbat not gotten to him first. A shuttleformer? Or someone closer to his own size? Perhaps a microscope or someone from the intellectual class—Soundwave wasn’t confident, but he was certainly smart. Or maybe Soundwave wanted someone smaller than him, a chance to throw his weight around and be in charge for once. 

Had Ratbat not already determined Soundwave was his and his alone, Ratbat _might_ have been inclined to introduce someone to Soundwave, to watch his aide get absolutely wrecked via video feed…

“I told you.” Ratbat pulled himself back to the present as Soundwave’s optics rebooted. “I don’t think I know a mech _alive_ who makes the kinds of sounds you do. It’s _delightful.”_

“A-affirmative.” Soundwave slumped back, utterly resigned. Ratbat wondered if he would slip into recharge with those words on his mind. 

“Now. I—“

“Soundwave: requests to take his leave.” His aide got to his feet, though Ratbat seriously doubted he would be able to take more than a few steps before collapsing. He allowed the interruption to go unpunished, though he badly wanted to pin the mech back down and make him _scream_ for forgiveness.

Ratbat watched Soundwave’s knees tremble appreciatively.

“Of course. But I can’t have you driving in such a state.” Ratbat took the opportunity to grasp his aide’s shoulder and moved to steer him out of the study, down the hall and towards his quarters. He was right. Soundwave took a step, then nearly collapsed. Oh, he _would_ be feeling this tomorrow—and several other things, once Ratbat was done with him. “Allow me to put you up for the night.”

He felt Soundwave tense. Did he suspect what Ratbat wanted? Was he in any position to _care?_

Soundwave nodded, and Ratbat smiled.

“Very good.”

Ratbat led him to the berth, and Soundwave practically crawled into the bed. The notion that Soundwave _knew_ what was coming, and was agreeing so easily was a strange one, though Ratbat couldn’t discount it entirely. His aide clearly wouldn’t be requiring a hardline tonight.

Ratbat waited slightly longer than strictly necessary, feeling the untethered charge crawling up and down his frame.

Slowly, Ratbat climbed into the berth.

His aide didn’t react, save for a slight twitch of his mouth.

Ratbat raked his claws across Soundwave’s chassis, stopping only at Soundwave’s uncovered array. He massaged Soundwave’s overheated, misused ports for a moment, then unspooled his own cords.

As he had that morning, Ratbat pushed a claw into Soundwave’s port and was rewarded with a soft whine. He withdrew the finger, only to use it to part Soundwave’s lips.

He rested the tip of his cord against Soundwave’s mouth, and was delighted when aide’s lips parted further. Encouraged, Ratbat pushed it in, shuddering when Soundwave’s glossa brushed against the delicate sensors.

Interface cords weren’t particularly thick—despite his size, Soundwave could easily fit Ratbat’s second cord into his mouth. The idea was entertained only for a moment—but no. He needed to save _some_ novelty for the future.

He took his time plugging in, delighted when he withdrew the cord from Soundwave’s mouth and heard the most _wonderful_ moan. Soundwave arched into his touch—unconscious, there was none of Soundwave’s resistance to Ratbat’s desires. Normally Ratbat preferred the sweet victory of a conquest, of being _begrudgingly_ given what he wanted. But now, with his array humming and Soundwave so tempting beneath him _…_

Well…

He could afford to indulge himself. He had spent the last cycle giving Soundwave a taste of his future relationship with Ratbat—now, it was time to focus on the present.

It wasn’t strictly necessary, but Ratbat activated the manual hardline port in Soundwave’s wrist, and plugged himself in. If nothing else, Ratbat could test the limits of his aide’s endurance uninterrupted.

Ratbat was well on his way to a _very_ pleasant overload when Soundwave’s optics abruptly onlined. Had he not been connected to his aide via hardline, felt Soundwave’s processor awakening, Ratbat might have been surprised _._ Instead, he triggered the well-worn commands to relax Soundwave’s body, and his aide merely looked at him blearily, as though he was unsure if Ratbat was a figment of a particularly vivid defrag.

“Senator.” Soundwave’s voice was slurred. “Please.”

“Shh.” Ratbat shuddered as a particularly strong burst of charge wracked his frame. “Let me have this, Soundwave. I’ve given you so much over these cycles—allow me this small indulgence.”

“Soundwave: unsure—“

“Have I ever done anything you didn’t like?” Ratbat pressed on. “Anything your body _truly_ hated?”

Soundwave was silent as he thought. Ratbat watched him think, amused at the painfully sluggish way his overtired mind tried to formulate his next words.

“No?”

“Then trust me to do what’s best for you.”

It was likely Soundwave wouldn’t remember this in the morning, which was fine by Ratbat. He felt Soundwave give in a second before he nodded: such a quick, relatively painless surrender wasn’t normally Ratbat’s favorite, but his array was getting downright _sore_ from being kept waiting for so long.

Briefly, Ratbat entertained the idea of utilizing the hardline to its fullest potential—cutting off the supply of energon to Soundwave’s helm and forcing the mech to swim in his own mix of desperation and ecstasy. It would be a nice enough conclusion to the evening, but…no. For that, Ratbat wanted Soundwave conscious.

Ratbat smiled. A dizzyingly strong burst of charge crackled along the connection, and Soundwave let out a low moan, but did not stir again.

Yes. Ratbat had plenty of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feedback is always appreciated! I'm hoping to get this fic done before school starts; the next chapter is drafted and should be ready to go soon.


	6. Tipping Point

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bad one. _The_ bad one. The one where Soundwave more or less hits rock bottom.
> 
> content warning for this chapter: nonconsensual breathplay, oral, sparkplay. briefly touched upon depression, mild emeto. 
> 
> As always, huge thank you to eatyoursparkout for these ideas <3

Soundwave no longer recognized himself.

His reflection was still _him,_ Soundwave was sure—he recognized the familiar, blocky shapes that comprised his frame, the solid navy blue broken only by the white and red on his forearms, the trim of gold around the clear glass of his chassis.

The problem was his optics. They hadn’t been changed, or switched out, or any of the number of things Soundwave had seen in the horror vids Laserbeak liked to watch when he couldn’t sleep. All that had changed were the filters, red ones swapped out for a sickly yellow to better match his employer.

Soundwave stared at the opaque screen of the datapad, willing himself to _focus._ The charge in his frame had reached a numbing plateau—Ratbat had gotten distracted by something, and forgotten to adjust the settings for a quarter cycle, leaving Soundwave to stew in comforting sameness. Unbidden, his hand drifted down to press against his covered array, where Ratbat had tucked in the interface toy at the beginning of the cycle. It would be a simple thing to remove it.

It remained where it was.

He was to accompany Ratbat to a celebration at the Senator’s estate after the work cycle was completed—another mine had successfully been cleared for automation, and Ratbat was eager to celebrate the latest increase in his business’s profits.

That Soundwave would be staying the night was unstated, but understood. It had been some time since he and Ratbat had coupled; Ratbat had been visiting Iacon on official business and Soundwave had not been invited to accompany him.He knew it was because Ratbat had mechs in Iacon he wanted to see, mechs he hadn’t interfaced with in years—since before Soundwave had captured his attention.

The level of charge being sent to his array abruptly dropped off, and Soundwave wasn’t quick enough to stop a surprised gasp from escaping his vocalizer. Thankfully he was alone _—_ what few aides remained under Ratbat’s wing had separate offices, as far from his own as they could manage.

It was private enough that Soundwave felt comfortable leaning over, resting his forehead against the cool desk and powering down his visor. Though he knew it was pointless, his fingers traced the edge of the paneling as he tried to imagine Ratbat’s claws digging into his transformation seams. What little enjoyment he had ever gotten from self-service had petered out after meeting Ratbat—a fact he had run into headfirst during his brief tenure as a mining supervisor. Ravage had offered to help, but Soundwave had refused, resorting to cheap engex and his own blocky fingers trying to pry some kind of relief from his systems.

That mine’s automation and his subsequent return to Ratbat had almost been a relief.

_Almost._

Soundwave knew that Ratbat knew that he had gone to the Academy in an attempt to leave him. But Ratbat purchasing the mine, then offering Soundwave his original position back…was he _supposed_ to feel flattered, that someone wanted him so badly they would expend the massive amounts of time and shanix involved in such a venture?

Soundwave didn’t know what he felt.

He had gone back, because it was easier to slip back into familiar patterns than try to face the deafening world outside the Senate building. The mine had been an entrance to the Pit itself, a harsh, screaming cacophony of the desperate and dying.

He tried not to think about the mine.

This time, he had a half-second of warning—a flicker of interest in Ratbat’s mind, a glance at the clock—before the dial was turned again. It didn’t stop Soundwave’s systems from blinking red as the levels of charge in his systems abruptly jumped. He pressed his forehead harder against the desk and a small, desperate whine escaped his vocalizer.

As if Ratbat had heard Soundwave’s surrender, the door to his office hissed open.

“Why Soundwave,” Ratbat’s voice was light. Teasing. “I thought we talked about this.”

Soundwave struggled to think past the roaring heat in his systems. He nodded, forcing himself to sit upright and meet Ratbat’s optics. His array throbbed.

“Come. It wouldn’t do to be late to my own party.”

Soundwave nodded again, struggling to his feet as he followed Ratbat. Each step jostled the simulator, pushing it against new nerve sensors and more than once, Soundwave had stopped, unwilling to take another step of self-inflicted torment.

Yet he continued on, to Ratbat’s shuttle. The shuttle was sentient, and Soundwave was eternally thankful the mech had never transformed around him.

He didn’t think he could meet the mech’s optics.

He took his usual seat in Ratbat’s lap, practically sobbing as Ratbat’s impatient claws tugged open Soundwave’s interface panel.Ratbat didn’t seem to want anything else from Soundwave—not that Soundwave was in any position to give more than pleading whispers as Ratbat connected his own cables and firmly pushed Soundwave into an overload.

By the time Soundwave’s higher processors came back online, he was little more than a pile of sore, overstimulated nerve circuits in Ratbat’s lap. The Senator was watching him. The look of fondness in Ratbat’s optics had never once diminished, no matter how many centuries had passed since their first coupling.

“I brought this for you,” Ratbat said, holding up his collar.

“Sir—“ Soundwave forced his hands to remain down as Ratbat secured it around his neck. He had spent the better part of a quarter cycle polishing it until the materials shone—even now, it was visible in the dim light of the shuttle.

“They’ll understand,” Ratbat said, running his hand across the sigil painted on Soundwave’s chassis. “It doesn’t mean much to anyone else, Soundwave—and besides, you’ve seen how we dress. It’s a fashion statement. Nothing more.”

Soundwave wished he believed him. His array was already sore, and he wanted nothing more than to run home to Ravage and the birds.

* * *

The celebration was just as lavish as he expected: decadent, imported fabrics covering the table, engex that would cost a year’s salary. Sentinel Prime himself had been invited, though his refusal weighed heavy and angry on Ratbat’s mind.

Soundwave sat beside his master as the dinner began, sipping triple-filtered engex from a glass and listening to the rolling, fetid conversations around him.

A thought occurred to him.

He had never actually _tried_ to read Ratbat’s mind, had he? It had always been unintentional glimpses into the Senator’s processes, or the deep, exhausted relief of a hardline. He had sunk into Ratbat’s emotions, but…never his thoughts.

Soundwave had never _wanted_ to look any closer than absolutely necessary.

Perhaps…now he did.

Soundwave set his engex aside and _focused,_ trying—and mostly succeeding—to tune out the extraneous noise of the other Senators and their snide compliments about Ratbat’s automation of mine C-12, the maddening hum of Decimus’ chronomods, the way the smugness left by some aide remained stagnant in the air, Halogen’s anger at the news that the Prime would not be attending the dinner, the sound—

_Soon._

Soundwave flinched, realizing after a moment that the thought had not been directed at him. Beneath the mask, he frowned, tracing the arc of the thought as it left Ratbat’s mind and was led towards…

His optics locked on Senator Proteus.

Suddenly, Soundwave understood.

The rest of the celebration passed in a blur. Soundwave spent half of it drinking as much engex as possible in the hopes of being too overcharged to entertain Ratbat, then the second half trying desperately to remember how to activate his FIM chip.

By the time he had collected himself enough to set it to a steady 57%, Proteus and Ratbat were the only others left. Soundwave decided to push his luck. He stood, inclining his head the way he knew Ratbat liked.

“Soundwave: does not wish to impose.”

Ratbat’s optics glittered.

“Don’t be shy, Soundwave. Sit—I was just telling Proteus what a delightful aide you are.”

“Indeed.” Proteus’ voice was warm, and Soundwave desperately, _desperately_ wanted to believe him. “Very talented, no?”

Ratbat nodded. Soundwave sat beside the Senator, keeping Ratbat between himself and Proteus. Ratbat seemed pleased, going so far as to rest a hand on Soundwave’s knee.

“I trust you still have the report on the financial forecast on the automation of the mine?”

Soundwave nodded, relieved. Perhaps this would be over quickly. He fumbled in his subspace for the datapad, then began to read.

“The Bezonian financial model indicates—“ Ratbat’s hand trailed up to the seam in his hip, and Soundwave wavered. _Stupid._ “That profit margins from Senator Ratbat’s acquisition are expected to be between five and 20 percent, if—“

“Come.”

Soundwave’s hands trembled as he moved to Ratbat’s lap. The Senator’s contented sigh tickled the back of his neck.

“Ignore Proteus,” Ratbat said, as if Soundwave needed the reminder that they had an audience _._ “He’s been so eager to get to know you, Soundwave.”

Soundwave managed a nod in Proteus’ direction. _“Sir.”_

Proteus smiled. It didn’t reach his optics.

“Continue.”

“If automation equipment is manufactured by companies in which Ratbat owns majority share, profits may—“ Soundwave cut off a yelp as Ratbat bit down on his neck cabling. “Exceed 25%.”

“Is there any better way to receive good news?” Ratbat was talking to Proteus, who nodded.

Ratbat turned to Soundwave and snapped his fingers. Soundwave knew _that_ signal, at least. Trying to ignore the feeling of Proteus leering at him, Soundwave turned to face Ratbat and removed his facemask.

Ratbat’s golden optics were a mirror of his own.

Soundwave got to work, methodically dragging his teeth and glossa against the cables in Ratbat’s neck. He was rewarded with a quiet groan and an encouraging tug on his hip. Soundwave felt the first hint of warmth seeping into his frame—he _liked_ this, didn’t he? He was good at it, had learned to use his hands on Ratbat’s frame as skillfully as he used them to compile reports.

He had been bracing himself against Ratbat’s shoulders, but now he snaked his arms around the Senator, blindly seeking out the nerve clusters at the base of Ratbat’s rotors.

“I _told_ you.” Ratbat was speaking to Proteus again, but Soundwave didn’t hear the other Senator’s response. He worked until he felt Ratbat arch into his touch, then turned his attention to the sigil affixed to his chassis. This close, Ratbat’s spark pounded a churning, reassured beat into the back of Soundwave’s processor, in time to his own spark. Soundwave traced the edge of the sigil with his glossa. The sharp taste always lingered in the back of his mouth for hours afterwards.

Ratbat patted the top of his helm. Soundwave slid off the Senator’s lap and onto his knees. His array mirrored Soundwave’s: online, humming impatiently.

Ratbat spread his knees. Soundwave moved forward, stopping only when he felt Proteus’ hands on his shoulder. Unthinking, he flinched, pulling away from them. Both of them.

“Now Soundwave.” It was the first thing Ratbat had said to him in some time. Until now, they had been acting out their script, well worn and so familiar Soundwave could practically do it in his sleep. “You _know_ that’s unwise.”

His hands on the back of Soundwave’s helm offered no room for argument.

Soundwave bowed his head, shutting his optics as though cutting off his vision could stop the feeling of Proteus’ unfamiliar hands working their way across his body.

Tentatively, Soundwave mouthed Ratbat’s array, taking one of the cables in his mouth the way Ratbat loved. Proteus tugged at his arm, and Soundwave tensed, realizing a moment too late what the Senator was doing.

“You _do_ trust us, don’t you, Soundwave?” Ratbat’s voice was icy. “Have I ever hurt you? _”_

The cuffs clicked around Soundwave’s wrists. Soundwave struggled to remain balanced, unwilling to get any closer to Ratbat’s array than was strictly necessary, but the alternative would be leaning into _Proteus,_ whose array Soundwave could hear buzzing insistently against his aft.

Soundwave chose Ratbat. He released the cable from his mouth, turning his attention to Ratbat’s ports, examining them with his glossa as he had so many times before. It faded back into routine—reassuringly so, Soundwave realized, as he tried to ignore Proteus looming behind him, tried to imagine it was _Ratbat_ dragging his claws against his armor. 

“Come now.”

Ratbat tapped Soundwave’s helm and he looked up. The Senator’s optics were bright with charge, and Soundwave was relieved.

Much less so when Ratbat gestured to Proteus’ open array.

Soundwave’s spark dropped.

“It’s quite alright.” Proteus’ voice was even, as though he was discussing nothing more than a minor technical issue. His hand lingered on Soundwave’s shoulder as he moved to sit beside Ratbat. “If he needs a demonstration, I’m more than happy to provide.”

“Negative.” Soundwave adjusted his position, moving to the space between Proteus’ knees. Proteus’ ports were larger than Ratbat’s, his cables thick and uninviting.

It would take some time.

* * *

Soundwave staggered to the washracks and purged his tanks, then used his shoulder to turn on the spray and clean out his mouth. He ignored the ache in his cuffed wrists, using his shoulder again to shut off the spray. The solvent would dry quickly, before either Ratbat or Proteus required his services again.

Slowly, he made his way back to the main room. Ratbat and Proteus had paid him no mind when he moved from the corner of the room Ratbat had ordered him into. Judging by the cloud of charge and _want,_ they would not be concerned with anything else for a long while.

He settled back into his corner, determined to ignore the burning feeling of _need_ curling around his neglected array. Soundwave shuttered his optics and tried to _think._

Few potential employers would be willing or able to hire him. Those that were willing to ignore his connection to Ratbat would be few and far between. He briefly entertained the idea of trying to work directly with the Prime: Sentinel possessed the strength of mind to keep him focused, and he was far, far less vile than Ratbat. But, that might just be because Soundwave had not spent enough time in his company. And it was well known that Sentinel was under Proteus’ thumb, and considering Proteus was currently _literally_ under Ratbat…

Soundwave didn’t like his chances.

Perhaps there was some way to pit someone against _Ratbat,_ to distract the mech long enough for Soundwave to extricate himself. That Soundwave probably wouldn’t ever have a satisfactory interface again in his life was beside the point—and had he ever actually _had_ a good coupling? Or was it just what Ratbat had wanted, all this time? Did he even _know_ what he wanted? His frame knew what it wanted—it wanted Ratbat’s claws, the rush of a hardline, the soothing surrender of control.

The question wormed its way into Soundwave’s processor and refused to be dismissed. Was there a correlation between what his frame enjoyed—what his frame _needed,_ if he was being perfectly honest—and what his mind wanted, which was: _anything but this._

Did other mechs have this problem? Soundwave had never thought to ask Ravage or the birds, but…perhaps he should.

He couldn’t easily recall the last time he had gone home and actually talked to them. He couldn’t remember the last time he had done anything other than clean himself until the topcoat of paint was scrubbed off, or mindlessly work his way through another level of a strategy sim, or just bury his head in Ravage’s side until he slipped into recharge.

_Primus._

How had he let himself fall so far?

Soundwave activated his optics and was hit with the dizzying taste of multiple overloads. He was vaguely aware his own array was still active and burning with need, but now it seemed distant. Far away. Irrelevant, compared to the current conundrum.

Soundwave was certain there _was_ a solution. Even if it required building his own shuttle to escape Cybertron itself, or hiring an assassin, or—

“Come, Soundwave.”

Soundwave looked up. Proteus was gone, and Ratbat stood above him. He felt pleased with himself, Soundwave realized. Pleased with _Soundwave._

He focused his attention in Ratbat’s direction, parsing out the irrelevant thoughts and desires with a speed that very nearly frightened him.

Ratbat wanted to interface. And, Soundwave realized, with new clarity that only came as he looked into Ratbat’s mind and shed the last of his denial, Ratbat would not take _no_ for an answer.

Unsteadily, Soundwave got to his feet and followed Ratbat.

“I think you deserve a reward, no?” Ratbat pushed him down onto the couch, eyeing Soundwave’s array. “Proteus was delighted with your diligence, though we both agreed your enthusiasm leaves something to be desired.”

“Soundwave:—“ his words were cut off as Ratbat turned his attention—and mouth—to Soundwave’s ports, and Soundwave shuddered, trying to fight the wave of lust coursing through his circuits. It wouldn’t be so bad to just _stop thinking_ one more time, Soundwave reasoned. It was how he had managed to hold himself together this long. The thought of losing himself in the warm, electric pleasure and saving the consequences for later…

Yes. Now wasn’t the time to think about how to extricate himself from Ratbat, especially since—

Soundwave felt his hardline port activate, felt Ratbat plug in with fresh delight. Blearily, Soundwave put all thoughts of mutiny out of his mind and granted the permissions Ratbat demanded, chasing the painfully wonderful charge looping through his systems.

It wasn’t until he heard armor shifting back and felt the chill of the night air against his spark chamber that Soundwave was dragged back into the present.

“Wh—“

“Shh.” Ratbat’s mouth silenced his protest. “Proteus’ tastes differ from my own, but I can’t very well let my own friend have your spark all to himself, can I?”

I’ve instructed him to be gentle.” Ratbat smiled against Soundwave’s lips, and Soundwave heard the Senator’s own armor falling away. “Well—as gentle as he can be.”

“Ratbat. Senator.” Soundwave squirmed, trying to gain non-existent leverage and force Ratbat off him. His spark spun, caught between its desire to press up against the other, the realization that _it didn’t want that._ Not at all, it wanted that less than anything else in the universe. Less than the mines, the Institute, the— _“Please.”_

Ratbat’s claw traced the outer edge of his spark casing. A small, involuntary overload shot through Soundwave and he arched, involuntarily into the touch.

“Delightful.”

“ _Please,”_ Soundwave repeated, then abruptly realized that Ratbat would _deliberately_ take his words to mean he wanted _more._

Another claw brushed against the thin glass, cutting off Soundwave’s first and only _no_ before it ever had a chance to be spoken. 

“I must admit that sparkplay is not my favorite pastime,” Ratbat murmured. “Though with you, I think I could learn to like it very, _very_ much.”

Belatedly, Soundwave realized that Ratbat had cut off the energon headed towards his processor. It wasn’t the first time he had done such a thing but it _was_ the first time Soundwave found himself panicking so quickly, trying not to lose what little control he still had.

Ratbat’s spark casing brushed against his own. Another small overload had Soundwave crying out, caught between the unyielding couch against his back and Ratbat’s spark. The charge was still there, hot and frustrating and _building_ with every maddening hint of a full overload.

Abruptly, Ratbat released his hold on Soundwave’s fuel lines, then just as quickly pressed his spark against Soundwave’s.

The impact shorted out Soundwave’s optics. His already-heightened senses reached a new level of intensity as his spark spasmed and his frame locked up.

The charge looped in his array, his chassis, and knowing it was futile, Soundwave struggled against the cuffs. White-hot pleasure shot through his frame, over and over until his internal systems were knocked offline.

By the time his optics rebooted, Ratbat’s own overload had come and gone. The Senator’s golden optics watched him lazily as Soundwave struggled to sit up, then tried (and failed) to send a command to return the armor around his spark to its normal position.

“Proteus won’t have a free evening for a while,” Ratbat said, a little breathlessly. “But when he does, I expect he will be absolutely _delighted_ with you and your spark.”

Ratbat disconnected the hardline. Soundwave shuddered as full control of his systems was returned to him, and he snapped his chest plates closed with a determined, humiliated _click._

No.

Proteus wouldn’t be touching him. Not now. Not ever again.

And if Soundwave played his cards right: one day, neither would Ratbat.


End file.
